Moon River
by hollyboo2001
Summary: Sequel to "Some Nights". Frank is getting a little stronger every day. He and Phil continue to move forward in their relationship, depsite the ominous clouds that loom overhead. But this is Frank Hardy we're talkng about. Is it ever smooth sailing for him? Rated M for violence, mature and sexual content. M/M mostly.
1. Not Broken, Just Bent

Chapter 1: Not broken, just bent

"Good bye and good riddance!" Frank Hardy called out from the front porch. The twenty four year old gave an overly dramatic farewell and salute in the general direction of his younger brother, Joe, and his childhood friend, Allen "Biff" Hooper.

"What're you talking about? We're putting this thing in your shed in case you goof up and break your other leg." Joe retorted as he got down on his knees with a wrench to start loosening the nuts and bolts on the wooden access ramp he and Biff had built several months before.

"Ha, ha, very funny little brother. Biff, do you have room in your truck to haul that to Joe's? He might hurt himself making wisecracks like that, he'll need it next." Frank shot back as he settled himself on the porch swing, his new favorite place. He kicked off with his bad leg as he watched his brother and friend toil away.

Almost eight months had passed since Frank's femur had been nearly shattered by an outraged and ancient vampire patriarch. In addition to the fracture, the damage to his muscles and nerves had been extensive, coupled with the complications of pneumonia and a few broken ribs.

After two surgeries and months of rehabilitative therapy, Frank was finally able to ascend stairs with relative ease. He still relied on the use of a cane and a leg brace for support. The leg continued to give him grief, worse when he was tired, or if it rained. But his gait had improved, even on the days when he didn't use his brace. His therapist, Corey Welker, was hopeful that in a year's time, Frank would be walking well enough that no one would ever know he had a permanent metal rod in this leg.

"Airport security will be a nightmare, but you should be able to get around just fine." the therapist assured. "And by spring you could be light enough on your feet to dance at your wedding. Well, slow dance anyway..."

…

"Hey Frank, take a look." Biff woke Frank from the cat nap he'd succumbed to, which was easy to do when rocking away a hot summer afternoon in the shade of the covered front porch. A breeze rustled the leaves of the massive oak tree in the front yard. Frank leaned back again and let the cool air wash over him.

"Frank, get your hobblin' ass down here." His brother called.

"Just enjoying the breeze." Frank grinned as he stilled the rhythmic motion of the porch swing with his left foot. Joe couldn't help but smile at his brother's genuine enjoyment of such a simple thing. Frank Hardy, who up until about a year ago was Mr. All-Work-and-No-Play, Mr. Never-Stops-to-Smell-the-Roses, had been forced to slow down during his convalescence and appreciate the little things in life. Joe also attributed the change in Frank's outlook on life to the happiness he had finally found in his love life.

After years of hits and misses, Frank had finally realized his truest feelings, and had fallen in love with his best friend and confidant. On a balmy Independence Day evening, under a shower of fireworks, he had proposed marriage to the love of his life.

Just then, Frank's fiancée, Phil Cohen, pulled onto the driveway in a silvery blue Ford Fusion and got out of the car with an armful of groceries.

"Whoa, I'd forgotten what the front of the house looked like without that ramp there!" Phil walked up to the now cleared steps and handed Frank a bag to carry, along with planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Glad to do it. Of course, the promised cookout by the beach was a mild incentive." Biff said as he patted his belly.

"Well, let me get this stuff put away and fill the cooler and we'll be on our way. Does anyone know if Chet's joining us?" Phil asked.

"He's pulling a double shift in the ER tonight." Biff answered, shaking his head.

"What about Vanessa, Joe? Thought she was going to try to make it."

"Van's at her mother's house, they're trying to finish those darn thank you notes from the wedding." Joe pulled a face at the thought of all those small white note cards and envelopes that Vanessa had left house with earlier that day.

"You know, it was your wedding too, you could help her." Frank called back to Joe as he followed Phil into the house.

"But she's so much better at that kind of thing than I am." Which, for Joe, that actually translated to "It's boring, and I'd rather hang with the guys."

Biff and Joe began to clean up their tools and the loosened boards while Phil and Frank filled a cooler with ice, soft drinks, bottled water and the preformed hamburger patties Phil had just purchased. Frank looked back toward the front yard where his brother and friend were finishing up. The heavy ramp was lifted with relative ease by both men, even with Joe supporting the heavier end of the ramp with one hand.

That told Frank several things at once, Joe was still on the stuff, and if he was still on the stuff, that meant he was still helping Biff with his pastime too. The brown haired Hardy groaned inwardly. Wasn't it bad enough Joe had taken on more responsibilities and leg work with the detective agency since he'd been out on recovery? Did he really have to put himself more at risk by helping Biff on the side? Joe and Vanessa had barely been married a month, he had to think about her too. A brotherly chat was in order, and sooner rather than later.

"…nk? Yoo-hoo, Earth to Frank." Frank turned his attention back to Phil who had the cooler in his arms trying to pass him in the doorway from the kitchen. Frank noticed Phil's biceps and forearm muscles were relaxed, despite the weight of the heavy red and white cooler. Oh no, not him too. And why hadn't he noticed before? Too busy enjoying summer breezes and smelling the roses, he guessed.

"Babe? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah, just lost in thought."

"Well would you grab the front door for me?" Frank obliged and watched Phil put the ice chest in the trunk. Frank had to give Phil a little credit. He probably had a good reason for partaking of the vampire blood that Biff and his cousins, all vampire slayers, harvested when they went on their hunts. Maybe Phil didn't quite trust the protection offered by Amy Johnson and her offspring, both friendly vampires, if one could consider a penitent vampire friendly. Or maybe he felt a need to be overprotective of Frank.

It still seemed a little odd. For years, Frank had been the one who stuck his neck out, looked after his younger brother on cases, always there whenever someone needed him. Now here he was the one being looked after and protected. It warmed his heart, to see his younger brother step up in his responsibilities, and for Phil to look after him as he had. But there were days when being treated with kid gloves chaffed horribly.

He missed his freedom of movement. He missed _not_ being in some form of pain every day. He missed being able to drive, his independence. Frank longed to return to his family's private investigations office. But his father and Joe sent plenty of "busy work" for him to do from his home office to keep him occupied, and still feel like a productive member of the business. Even though Frank was not the social butterfly that Joe was, he had come to miss the person-to-person contact with the clients and witnesses. Indeed, there was a laundry list of things he missed from before he was hurt.

"Let's see, did you pack up a bag with our swim trunks and beach towels?" Phil asked as he re-entered the kitchen.

"Yes, dear." Frank said with just a wee bit of sarcasm. But he smiled and Phil came up to him, wrapping his arms around his fiancée and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Someone's full of himself this afternoon." Phil noted. Frank kissed him back, running his hands over Phil's bare arms.

"Just looking forward to the beach." Frank replied, "The bag's on the foot of the bed. I'll go get it."

"Okay Babe. I'll see if Joe and Biff are ready too."

Frank walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and began tugging on the Velcro straps of his brace. Definitely didn't want to get sand caught up in that thing. He looked at his exposed leg, and traced the long scar on the outside of his thigh that extended down to the side of his knee. Frank sighed heavily as he thought back on the circumstances that had brought him to this point.

His ex-boyfriend, Eric Langhorne, had popped back into his life less than a year ago, and just as quickly he was dead. But his body had been stolen from the morgue and after months of trying to find answers, the case started to go cold, and coincidentally, Frank and Phil's relationship had taken off. Then out of nowhere Eric returned, a vampire, and stole Frank away. Frank had been raped, mentally abused with threats to his family and Phil, and was in the process of being turned into a vampire himself when he had been rescued by his brother, his lover, his friends, and complete strangers. The long, pale scar on his leg wasn't the only scar Frank had been left with. But Phil, Joe and his family had been more than patient with him, and slowly, he was getting there.

Biff had offered Frank a few vials of the deep red elixir, but the older Hardy brother had turned him down. The short-term benefits were outweighed by the knowledge that it wasn't a permanent solution. Sure, taking the vampire blood would give him a day of strength. He would probably walk with greater ease and virtually no pain. But really, it would be a temporary fix, he knew the only way to truly regain his strength and command of his own body was to stick with the physical therapy and allow time to do the healing.

…..

"I don't believe it can get any better than this, boys." Biff announced as he raised his soda bottle in a toast to his friends.

"I'll second that." Phil replied and took a long swig from his bottled water.

The sun had set, and the foursome were gathered around the campfire, well fed and exhausted from a few rounds of Frisbee and horsing around in the waves. Frank was reluctant to get out of the surf. The waters of BarmetBay were a great deal calmer and slightly warmer than the icy waters directly off the Atlantic that lapped up against Fire Island.

The sand around the campfire was still warm from the late July sun, so Frank dug his feet deeper into the powdery turf and sank into the comfort of his umbrella chair, gazing into the flickering flames of the campfire and listening to his brother, fiancée and friend chat and joke.

"So he said, "Witherspoon?" And I said, "No, with a knife!" Biff chortled at the old joke that he'd stumped his roommate and best friend, Chet Morton, with the other day.

"Oh Lord. He fell for that one again?" The honey blonde Hardy brother laughed at the muscle-bound man.

"Run it by him again in six months and he'll still fall for it, poor bastard." Biff ran a hand over his military-styled haircut as he laughed, trying to knock out the dried salt that clung to his stubbly, light brown pelt. He stopped suddenly and drew in a deep breath. Biff turned to Joe, who just raised an eyebrow in confusion, then straight to Frank and Phil across the fire.

"We've got company." he announced and stood from his beach chair, a grim look on his face.

Frank turned in his chair, on the dune behind him stood a dark, short figure. He rolled his eyes and threw a hand in the air.

"Hey Ezekiel!" he greeted the teenager in the distance. Biff narrowed his eyes then sat back down.

"We can't even have a guys' night out without Little Brother watching." Biff grumbled as he unscrewed the cap on his drink.

"You're just mad that it's Amy's night off." Ezekiel shot back as he approached the circle, remaining in the shadows and away from the campfire.

The sandy blonde youth was a one hundred and sixty four year old vampire. His first life had been nearly cut short at the hands of his stepfather. Amy, who was over two centuries older than the lad, had saved him and "adopted" him, more or less.

Ezekiel and his "mother" had sworn to protect the older Hardy brother and Phil from the selfish efforts of Eric Langhorne after Frank had sacrificed his own safety for theirs. It was a rare occurrence, a human saving a vampire. The mystic oath Amy Johnson and Ezekiel Turner had taken bound them to protect the couple for the remainder of their mortal lives. Their vampirehood made them Biff's natural enemies. But an unspoken truce had been struck between the three of them for Frank's sake.

"How's it going Zeke?" Joe asked. If his older brother could trust the teenage vampire, he would too, or at least try.

"Ezekiel, Joseph." The teen huffed as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose.

"Fine. How's it going _Ezekiel_?"

"Pretty good, thanks for asking." Ezekiel reached into the pocket of his hoodie and produced fluid-filled pouch. "Mind warming that up by the fire for me, Frank?"

"No problem." Though he did grimace as he accepted the pouch from the vampire and set it in the sand close enough to warm the blood within, but not to melt the plastic.

"So where's "Mom" tonight?" Biff inquired.

"Amy's in Manhattan, some small label fashion show. She wanted to check out their fall line."

"Sounds boring as crap."

"Tell me about it." The teen shook his head, then he motioned to Frank for his pouch. Frank handed him his meal and the youth sat in the sand by Frank's chair and quietly fed.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company Ezekiel, but aren't you worried about getting our scent on you being this close?" Phil asked, cringing as he watched the boy casually drink the type AB.

"The salty air and the sea breeze ought to take care of that." Ezekiel shrugged.

"If you say so."

"Besides, if I suspect I have your smell on me, I can just go take a bath in the ocean."

"Well be careful out there." Frank advised, "The water was starting to get a little choppy before we came up to dry off."

"You don't have to worry about that. Vamps aren't known for being the greatest of swimmers, we sink like a rock."

"Oh, really?" Biff could not recall his grandfather imparting this bit of vampiric wisdom on him. Ezekiel laughed nervously at his accidental admission.

"Well, drowning is not an issue for the obvious reasons. But I've crossed the bottom of many a river or lake when I've absolutely had to."

"Hmmm, good to know." Biff nodded and stroked his chin with an evil grin on his face.

"You're hilarious Hooper." The youth turned away and tossed his empty pouch to the closest rubbish bin several yards away. He pumped his fist when he actually made the shot.

Joe's phone chirped from his jacket pocket. He sighed as he fumbled through the pocket for his phone.

"Must be the witching hour." He commented as the chirping stopped just as he flipped it open. Ezekiel looked up from his spot by Frank with a serious look on his young face.

"It's not midnight yet." he whispered, but Frank smirked at his earnest confusion.

"Probably just his wife checking in. It is getting pretty late." the brunette supplied quietly.

"He married a witch?" Ezekiel's eyes widened in curiosity.

"What? No…" Frank shook his head in defeat and turned his attention back to his brother who was returning the call on his phone.

"Hey Chet, you rang?" The wide smile on Joe's face faded as he sat up straighter in his chair. His other hand flew to his hair, and he raked his fingers through the messy locks as he listened intently.

"What's wrong?" Frank mouthed to his brother, but Joe wasn't with them, his focus was totally on whatever Chet Morton was saying on the other end. Biff was on the edge of his seat hoping he could hear what their friend was telling Joe.

"Alright, I'm on my way. Thanks man, for everything." Joe snapped his phone shut and looked up at his brother and friends.

"Van's been in an accident. Chet just got the call from the ambulance that they're en route to the hospital."

…

Author's Note:

The plot and story for "Some Nights" had been in my mind for some time when it was written. I have only the bare bones of this story thus far, so the updates may take a little longer. I hope that you will read, enjoy, and review.

I don't own diddly squat and make no claims toward any of the established characters from the books.


	2. Right on the Nose

Chapter 2: Right on the Nose

Joe was nearly breathless as he jogged through the automatic doors of Bayport Memorial's Emergency Department. As soon as Biff had turned into the hospital's parking area, Joe had launched himself from the truck and ran the distance down the sidewalk to the main entrance. Chet intercepted him at the front desk and ushered him to the back. Frank, Phil and Biff took up an all too familiar vigil in the waiting room while they waited for Vanessa's mother to arrive.

Half an hour later a woman with dark brown hair and graying at her temples burst into the room and locked eyes with Frank.

"Andrea!" Out of habit, Frank began to stand as the woman approached their small group, but Andrea Bender motioned with her hands for him to keep his seat and joined them in the far corner of the room.

" 'Ave you 'eard anything yet?" she asked, her accented voice cracking with worry over her only child.

"No Ma'am." said Frank.

"They had already taken Joe back there with her by the time we parked and got in here." Biff supplied. Andrea rested a shaky hand over her brow and rubbed her forehead.

"I told her to go home before it got too dark. She insisted on finishing those Thank You notes tonight." The middle-aged woman sniffed and searched in her shoulder bag for a tissue.

"And you wondered why she and Joe were such a good fit." Phil added, trying to distract Ms. Bender. The woman gave a small laughed as she wiped her nose.

"Amen to that." she said. Andrea and Frank's phones pinged just then and they both reached for them. A text from Joe read that Vanessa just got out of the CT scan and everything looked good so far, a broken nose and a cracked rib were the worst of her injuries.

"_Dieu merci_!" Andrea rested her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. She'd no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth when Chet walked into the waiting room, his usually jovial freckled face was stern, yet weary.

"How is she?"

"What happened?"

"Did she total the car?"

"Hang on, hang on!" Chet held up his hands to halt the rapid-fire questions from everyone. "She's got some pretty nasty bruising and a laceration across the bridge of her nose. So she's going to look like a raccoon for a week or two. The doctor wants to keep her for twenty-four hours of observation because she was unconscious when the paramedics arrived."

"May I go see her?" Andrea insisted, and Chet nodded.

"Sure, she's in exam room four. You'll see Joe sitting in a chair just outside the room. Hang out with him until Kelly's done cleaning her up. Alright, Ms. Bender?" With a quick kiss to the red headed nurse's ruddy cheek, Andrea set off to check on her baby girl. Chet could see the lingering questions on his friends' faces.

"It was a single car accident. The EMT's said it looked like she hit a deer, a big one too. There were tufts of hair caught up in what was left of the grill. "

"Oh man! At least she's okay." Biff sat back and stretched out his long legs.

"Ugh, and as bright as the moon is tonight, the deer are probably on the move too." Frank reasoned.

"Is Joe going to stay with Vanessa overnight?" asked Phil.

"Yeah, he said he'd call or text in the morning for a ride home to freshen up. Then he wants to go the collision center and check out her car." Chet suddenly yawned and shook his head.

"What time are you punching out tonight?" Biff asked his roommate.

"I'm supposed to get off at midnight, but I'll hang out with Joe until Van's settled in a room."

"Just be careful of the deer." Frank advised.

"Ah, don't worry about me. I'll hit a Red Bull before I take off." Chet laughed but Biff sighed. He'd never understand why people in the medical field had worse health habits than the people they took care of.

…..

A man in his mid-forties sat in a Western-themed bar in New York City, slowly sipping on a beer, oblivious to the frivolity and loud music that surrounded him. Dear G-d, what a long night. He'd had absolutely no luck in his search tonight, and worse, he'd gotten hungry. The irresistible smell of a meal so fresh distracted him, and his most basic of instincts had taken over. That's when things went down hill, literally. He'd had his quarry in sight and was going to strike from the hill above when the nine-pointer buck suddenly pushed off to the right, and onto the rural road below.

The deer stopped in the middle of the unmarked asphalt, dark eyes opened wide and ears perked up. He made his move, lunging for the animal below. But instead of his teeth sinking into his prize, his world became an explosion of squealing tires, crunching metal and pain flaring through his left side. The impact threw him off toward the gully on the other side of the road. And as darkness encroached on his vision, he could hear the thump of hoofed feet making their flight deeper in to the woods.

He had woken minutes later to the claxon of a car's emergency horn alerting all within earshot that the vehicle and driver inside were in a state of distress. He could see blonde tendrils fanned out over the steering wheel and deflating airbag. Something in him wanted to check on the victim, make sure she was okay. But he looked down at his unclothed form and realized that was probably not a good idea.

He stood and saw the bruising up and down his side, something may have been broken at some point, but nothing felt like it was severely out of place. He'd had worse. The wail of a siren in the distance shook him from his self appraisal. He ran across the road back in the direction he came from, to the cover of the trees.

There he took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes and reached within, to the animal within. He crouched and curled in on himself, feeling the transformation beginning to take place. His hair, his arms, legs, fingers, back, all elongating, stretching. In his mouth he felt his teeth extend and widen in alignment with his jaw and nose. Smells became sharper, his hearing keener. Finally he dropped onto all fours and raced off for his starting point, miles away, where his vehicle and clothes were waiting for him.

Now in the bar with the citified cowboys and scantily clad women dancing on the bar top, he was drowning his troubles. How was he going to tell that pale-faced weirdo that for the fifth night in a row he'd yet to pick up the scent? He'd never had this hard of a time tracking someone or something before.

"Nothing? Not even a whiff?" The man sat up straight and turned to the sound of the voice. Damn that fleet footed devil, the son of a bitch needed a bell around his neck.

"How'd you…?" The other man began to say.

"Your posture, Mr. Hodnett. You have the look of defeat about you." A tall and very pale ginger-haired man sat beside Earl Hodnett at the bar. He waved to the well endowed bartender and ordered a sparkling water.

"Interesting choice of meeting place, by the way." The ginger haired man commented as a busty blonde handed him a bottle of Perrier.

"I seen a movie about this place on pay-per-view years back. Always said if I ever come to New York I'd want to see this place for myself. Course, the wife won't never 'ave let me come here if she were with me."

"I imagine you're anxious to get back home to her and your family."

"Not til I find your man, Mr. Langhorne."

"Eric, please." The tall man insisted.

"Well, Eric, ya paid me up front. I tend to hold up my end of our agreement."

"If you haven't been able to find him, Mr. Hodnett, I don't think he's to be found." Eric sighed and took sip of the bubbly water.

"But what about the job ya asked me to do? I can't just take your money."

"Consider it compensation for your troubles and sending you away from your family and your _business venture_ back home in the middle of your season."

"Well, thank ya kindly." Earl took another sip of his beer and thought for a moment. "Ya know, I hear tell of a fella who might be able to help ya, better'n I ever could."

"Who?"

"They call him _Le Nez_. Sounds funny I know, but I think it means "The Nose" in French. He's sort of a fancy pants, but he's got a good 'nuff reputation." Earl shrugged.

"How can I reach him?" Eric asked. Earl grabbed a napkin and wrote Le Nez's whereabouts on it.

"That's awfully far away." The ginger complained.

"Welp, they say he's the best. And you get what you pay for."

"Indeed. Well Earl Hodnett, it has been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Thank you. I'm just sorry I couldn't find your missing person for ya. Have ya tried a private eye or goin' to the police?"

"I've considered those avenues." Eric lied. "But I'm trying to keep this as low key as possible, it's complicated."

After a final goodbye Eric left Earl alone at the bar to finish his drink. Once he was several blocks away he went to a payphone and dialed a number he had saved on a piece of paper.

A few rings and finally a drawling female voice answered the call.

"Good Evening. VirginiaState Police…"

"Yes, I'd like anonymously report the whereabouts of an illegal still in FranklinCounty. I have the coordinates to it…."

…..

"Holy Shit Joe! Did Van hit a deer or an elephant?" Biff was overwhelmed by the amount of damage to the front of the black Mazda. Joe shook his head. They were lucky, damn lucky.

He'd spent the entire night wide awake in the chair by Vanessa's bed, feeling like a complete jerk for the way things had worked out. If he'd just helped her whenever Vanessa had asked him with those damn thank you notes, at least to stuff and seal the envelopes, or put the stamps on them, then she wouldn't have been so behind getting them done. And she wouldn't have needed to go to her mother's house to do them and she wouldn't be lying in the hospital with a gash across her nose and her face and chest black and blue.

Instead he was busy with work, or helping Biff hunt, or hanging out with the guys. What kind of husband found more to do after the wedding and have less time to spend with their wife than before they got married? When Joe Hardy fucked up, he fucked up royally.

"Joe?" Biff's voice brought Joe out of his miserable train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"Van did say she saw a deer last night, right? Was that all she saw?"

"That's all she said she could remember before she blacked out. Why?" Joe walked over and squatted down next to Biff who was in the same position, closely examining the badly dented grill and busted headlights. Biff plucked a tuft of fur from the grill and held it to his nose, inhaling. He stood and looked at the tuft closely. Joe straightened and watched his friend.

"Joe, I don't think Van hit a deer."

"You can tell by the hair?"

"Pretty much. This isn't deer hair. This looks and smells more dog-like." He took another whiff. "Wild. But I detect human too."

"Do what?"

"I smell… wolf… and man. Oh, Jesus Christ!" Biff's eyes widened when he finally realized what he was holding.

"It's a Were, Joe. Your wife hit a fucking werewolf last night!"


	3. The Were from Where?

Chapter 3: The Were from Where?

Phil woke up Sunday morning around ten thirty to the sensation of light kisses being pressed to the back of his neck and shoulders. He hummed appreciatively as his fiancée found that sensitive spot right at the junction of where his neck met his shoulder. Soft fingers traced circles on his hip bone as the lips on his neck began to nip and suck the skin there.

"Babe, you're going to leave a mark there if you're not careful." Phil said softly. The lips let go and a warm, moist tongue traced the reddish bruise that was beginning to form there.

"What if I don't care?" Frank asked, his voice husky from sleep and lust. His hand left Phil's hip as his fingers traced a path to the toned chest above.

"You'll care when I have to wear turtlenecks in this heat."

"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Frank teased as he rubbed over one of Phil's already taut nipples.

Phil turned in Frank's arms and pressed an open-mouth kiss to his lips, his tongue running over Frank's lips, begging for entry. Frank's lips parted and he whimpered at the feel of Phil invading his mouth. He's getting dizzy, but in a good way as his body warms and he melts into the feeling of being held, loved, ravished.

His fiancée pushed on his shoulder and Frank lies back on his pillow, the raven haired man straddling his hips and his continues his mouth's explorations. Phil stops and sits back a little, raising his hand to Frank's mouth.

"Lick." he whispers, and the brunette obeys, sure to get the offered palm as wet as he can manage. Phil's warm, wet hand goes between their bodies, and he wraps his hand around Frank's dick and his own. Their hisses and moans intermingle as Phil began to pump his slick hand up and down. Frank reached up and grabbed Phil's head, bringing his face back down to his. With Phil's concentration on massaging and caressing their members, Frank takes charge of the kissing, sucking in Phil's bottom lip and lightly nipping, then more deep kisses. He ran his fingers through Phil's soft curls and found purchase at the nape of his neck, digging his nails into his lover's scalp.

"Mhmmm…" Phil moans, muffled by their joined lips, and his speed picks up...

_Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle  
When the sun's comin' up I got cakes on the griddle  
Life ain't nothing but a funny, funny riddle  
Thank God I'm a country boy…_

"What the hell does Joe want now?" Frank groused, recognizing his brother's annoying ring tone.

"Maybe he needs a lift from the hospital?" Phil wondered as he rested his head on Frank's shoulder.

"No, he sent a text a couple of hours ago that Biff was picking him up."

"Then don't answer it." Phil nuzzled Frank's neck and nipped at his earlobe. "Call him back later, when we're done." He thrust his hips for emphasis, causing Frank's breath to hitch. Frank turned his head to capture Phil's lips, but the ring tone began again and Frank groaned.

"Don't do it." Phil warned, but Frank was already starting to reach for his cell phone. "You're gonna regret answering it." He smiled teasingly.

"If I don't answer it he'll just keep calling, you know that. And I don't want to listen to John Denver the entire time we fuck." Phil sighed in resignation and rolled off of Frank, but spooned right up against him as Frank turned over to pick up the phone.

"Yeah?" Frank rasped impatiently as he felt Phil slot his dick between his cheeks.

"Frank? Did I wake you up?" Phil could hear Joe ask as he hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder.

"No, I'm awake." Frank said as Phil took his turn to plant light kisses on Frank's neck.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"No, no…" Phil smirked when Frank answered his brother. For that he smoothed his hand over the pert ass in front of him and gave the tender flesh a solid smack.

"Ah!" Frank yelped.

"The fuck was that?"

"Nothing! Nothing." Frank twisted his body to give Phil an admonishing look, but only received a face of mock innocence in return.

"Well look, Biff and I went to Harris Collision Center to check out Van's car. Biff thinks it wasn't a deer she hit, but something else."

"Oh, really?" Frank was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on what his brother was saying. Phil had decided now was a good time to reach around and resume stroking Frank's cock while rutting against his lover's buttocks.

"He thinks it's a Were, a werewolf to be exact." That got their attention. Frank propped himself up on one elbow and Phil stopped his motions, sitting up enough that he could still hear Joe as well.

"Biff thinks Vanessa hit a werewolf. But his sense of smell isn't nearly as good as Amy or Ezekiel's. Any chance you could call Amy over this evening and let her check out the sample for herself?"

"Biff wants Amy's help?"

"Er…yeah. It's taken him about an hour for him to admit it, but yeah. Biff needs Amy's help."

"Well, okay. I'll give her a call and leave a message. What time is good for Biff?" Frank could hear Joe asking Biff.

"Nine thirty! That ought to give the bitch time to wake up and put her face on!" He heard Biff call out to Joe.

"I heard him Joe. Alright bro, give Van a hug from me when you see her later. I'll let you know how it goes tonight. Bye." Frank ended the call and flopped back down on the bed. Phil did the same, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"Well, I don't know about you Babe, but that killed my boner."

…..

Frank had never seen Amy Johnson look as uneasy as she did sitting in his living room right now. The former plantation slave turned vampire was a tall and proud African with dark black skin and an exotic beauty that belied the deadliness she could possess at any given moment. But Frank had witnessed her softer, nurturing side first-hand and despite Biff's misgivings Frank trusted her. And for Frank Hardy, as anyone who'd known him as long as his family and Phil did, that was quite an accomplishment.

"How was the show in New York?" Frank asked as he set a cup and saucer of hot tea on the coffee table before her. Frank knew full well that Amy couldn't enjoy the tea, but he'd also come to learn that with vampires, at least with the older, world-weary ones, actions spoke louder than words. Amy came from a time when manners and cordialness spoke volumes about a person. Frank's presentation of the tea cup and saucer was a symbol of hospitality and gratitude for Amy's presence.

Amy smiled at the gracious gesture. Apparently some humans still taught their children manners in this era of crude television programs, violent video games and ill-mannered, thankless young people. In return for Frank's efforts, Amy did pick up the cup and saucer and took a polite sip. Chamomile tea, an interesting choice - well, chamomile flavored mud to her. Vampires had no taste for human food.

"Very enjoyable, I believe I will indeed be wearing a few things from her collection this fall." Amy set the tea back on the coffee table and sat back.

"Why do I feel like you're leaving something out?" Frank quirked an eyebrow as he fiddled with handle on his cane. Amy frowned and looked at her manicured nails for a moment before answering.

"I had a terribly uneasy feeling when I was in New York. I could feel Eric, his presence. As if he was close by. I could never pick up his scent, that city is a festering cesspool of smells. But Ezekiel hasn't been able to detect him in this area."

Frank's mouth went dry. He'd allowed himself to become complacent about their safety, but the reality was Eric was still out there, still a threat. Frank took a sip of his own cup of tea and shakily set it back in the saucer. Amy could almost see the panic beginning to rise in Frank as the cup and saucer trembled in his grasp.

"How is your physical therapy coming?" Amy asked quickly to distract Frank before a full-blown panic attack could set in. She'd witnessed him have one or two during his first months home from the hospital. Phil had been the one who comforted him and assured Frank that he was safe while Amy kept watch from a distance.

"It's… It's coming along okay." He cast his eyes downward and tapped his fingers on the handle of his cane. Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs from the second floor, Frank and Amy glanced over to the staircase to see Phil descending.

"Hey Amy! How're you tonight." Phil greeted the nearly four hundred year old vampire.

"I am well, thank you Phillip." Amy turned back to Frank. "What time did you say Allen was going to be here?" she glanced at the clock over the small fireplace.

"Biff said nine-thirty."

"Did his family not teach him that it is impolite to keep a lady waiting?" She huffed. "I would really like to help Ezekiel on patrol tonight."

"Why does Zeke need help?" Amy quickly explained her fears and Phil watched as Frank's face paled.

"Frank Babe, we've got the enchantment over the house. Amy and Ezekiel made the oath, he can't touch us. And the moment they find him they'll deal with him."

"He's smart Phil, he'll figure out a way around all this. You and I can't remain within a ten mile radius of our house the rest of our lives." He turned to Amy. "And we can't ask you and Ezekiel to be our constant body guards when we have to go beyond that perimeter. You two have your own lives to live." At that Amy looked downcast.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"No, Amy. I'm sorry. I'm very thankful for everything you and Ezekiel have done for us..."

"But you are right. That is no quality of life. It reminds me of when I had found favor as a house slave. I had some freedom, but I was still bound to the house and plantation. Essentially I was still a prisoner."

"I'm not saying I feel like a prisoner Amy…"

"You may as well be one." A look of determination was now set in her features. "I have only myself to blame. I've been so focused on waiting for a sign of Eric coming here, I've neglected to broaden my search for him. It's time I called in a few favors."

"Great, more vampires. Biff will have a cow." Phil rolled his eyes.

"Allen must come to understand not all of us are cold blooded killers."

"Well unless you go on a diet of mountain lion or black bear, I think you're going to have a hard time swaying him." Frank said. Amy genuinely laughed at that idea.

"You mortals can't believe everything you read, especially in a work of fiction."

"So how do you justify your eating habits?" Phil countered nervously.

"Your friend believes he is doing the world a favor, ridding the world of a pestilence, however…"

"More like keeping my friends and family safe." A gruff voice from behind them said.

"Shit Biff, knock why don't you!" Phil cried out as he covered his chest in mock pain.

"I did, but you three were too busy with your pow-wow. And your door was unlocked."

"Actually, I knew you were there the whole time." Amy said with a smug grin.

"Well then, don't let me interrupt. Please Amy, tell us how you're able to sleep during the day after taking innocent lives all night."

"I don't take innocent lives. I swore long ago never to prey on the innocent. There is enough evil in the world to keep me fed for another four hundred years."

"That's for a judge and jury to decide, you can't take the law into your own hands." Biff said righteously as he took a seat across from the vampire, the color beginning to rise in his cheeks.

"Tell that to the single mother woman who was strangled in an alley on her way home from work. Or to the prisoners of war whose lives were considered no more valuable than the dogs used to chase them down. If you could stop it, why wait for justice? Exact it then and there so that the innocent can live and the guilty can be punished?"

"Someone has a bit of a G-d complex." Biff rebuffed.

"Touché." Amy bit back, eyes reddening in anger.

"Okay! That's enough you two!" Frank stood wobbly from the chair and leaned on his cane. "Biff, would you please show Amy what you and Joe found?"

"Here." Biff huffed as he tossed a plastic baggie of fur onto the coffee table. Amy picked the bag gingerly with two fingers, as if the thing were toxic. She scowled as she opened the bag and closed it immediately.

"It is of a werewolf. Male. Not from around here." Amy made a very unladylike face as she tossed the baggie back onto Biff's lap dismissively.

"You can tell all of that just from a little sniff?" Phil asked.

"Yes. He spends quite a bit of time in the wild." Amy picked up her cup of tea and inhaled the vapors from the still steaming cup. "Ugh. That's not working. Excuse me please, I'm in need of your facilities." She got up and walked to the foyer in the direction of the half bath.

"Well, that narrows it down." Phil said sarcastically.

"Actually, it does in a way." Biff conceded. "It means it's not one of our local werewolves. They're very territorial, if a werewolf from another area has been hunting here, he had to have gotten permission from someone from the pack. I'll call the local den leader in the morning, see if they've had any recent guests and make sure they're okay."

Amy walked back into the living room and reclaimed her seat.

"Are you okay Amy?" Frank asked.

"I'll be fine. I believe I finally rid my nose of that stench."

"Amy, I really would like to thank you for identifying this for us." Biff slipped the baggie of fur back into his jeans pocket. Amy seemed shocked by Biff's gratitude, but recovered her cool demeanor with a curt nod.

"Anything for Frank and his family." She stood from her seat and shoved her clutch purse under her arm. "I hope your sister-in-law has a quick recovery, Frank, and thank you for the tea. Phil, always a pleasure. Allen… you're welcome. Now, if I am now longer needed here, I must go home and shower before I meet up with Ezekiel."

She was gone in a flash. They heard the front door close with a soft click before they realized Amy had left the room.


	4. Delusions and Deceptions

Chapter 4: Delusions and Deceptions

Eric had spent most of the last year experiencing an intoxicating amount of control and freedom for the first time in his life. He had a family unit that cared for him. The love of his life, Frank Hardy, was back in his arms and on his way to spending eternity with him. And thanks to his patriarch, the resources to make his dreams come true.

He had not been a vampire long enough to gather up the nest egg for himself that older vampires managed to when Eric's world came crashing down that cold January night. In a fit of jealousy he had left everything behind to take care of something, once and for all. Frank was still hung up on that sad sack, Phil Cohen. What did Frank see in him anyway? What could he offer Frank that Eric couldn't?

But that had been a fatal mistake, to leave Frank's side. By the time he returned, the home he'd come to love was a pile of cinders and ashes. His patriarch, brothers and sisters, were all dead. And Frank's jilted lover had taken him away. Eric's so called "mother" and his other brother had turned their backs on him. Swearing protection and allegiance to Frank and that fool Phil. And a month later, the love of his life vanished without a trace.

No thanks to their oath, Eric could not go near Frank, could not take his revenge out on Phil. Every time he tried to enter Center State hospital where Frank was being treated for his injuries, a sense of repulsion would overcome Eric so strongly that he would lose command of his own body. He would turn on his heel to make a one hundred and eighty degree turn to leave the premises in a trance-like state until he was far enough away and return to his senses. The same thing would happen when he approached the hotel where Phil was staying.

Once Eric learned Frank was released from the hospital in Bayport, he could not pick up their scent anywhere in Bayport or the surrounding areas. He searched for Frank, sought out major cities in other states where he thought Frank might consider moving to, where there was potential for Frank to succeed as a detective.

Then he finally saw it while looking at Bayport's Gazette's online articles. Frank's brother's wedding announcement, and there in the second paragraph, "the best man was the brother of the groom, Frank Hardy, of Bayport, NY." His lover had been hidden in Bayport this whole time. But Amy and Ezekiel's oath would thwart a renewed search.

It was time to seek outside help. There was no going to the local den of Weres, they had sworn blood oaths against vampires. Enlisting the help of the local witches proved a fruitless venture, they were all faithful to Amy. And apparently Amy and Ezekiel had spun a horrific tale of how poorly he had treated Frank while they were together at the old HersherMansion, because no vampire within two hundred miles of Bayport would speak to him.

Then one night at a bar off Hull Street in Richmond, Virginia, hungry for blood and sex, a wild gamey smell entered his nose. A young man, a Were, was actually speaking to him, eyes lowered and dark, voice husky with lust. Eric thinks Miles was his name.

"I didn't think your kind associated with my kind." Eric asked as he bought young man another drink. He was beginning to wonder how long it would take for Miles to reach a level of intoxication that Eric's charms would have some effect on the boy. But obviously werewolves were rather tolerant of alcohol and vampire enchantments. But everyone has their limit, and it took to nearly closing time in the tacky bar before Miles' tongue and self-will loosened.

"Those Yankee Weres are so fuckin' snooty. They think their shit don't stink. But to us Southern boys, it's all good. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Ya' know?" They walked arm-in-arm out of the bar, Miles continued to talk and hit on Eric.

"I don't see what the big deal is. I think you blood suckers smell pretty good, _you_ smell pretty good."

Eric allowed himself to be shoved up against the wall of a dark alley and ravished by the young man. He had to admit, the young werewolf was strong for his size. Miles was a whole head shorter than Eric. But what he lacked in height he made up for in pure, strapping muscle. It was a supernatural sort of strength, however. Eric could now tell there was more to werewolves in their human form than the average human.

They went back to Miles' apartment, and for the first time in years, Eric was submissive to the young man's advances. It felt good to switch things up, to feel full and satisfied. But he discovered quickly that Miles had an annoying habit, he talked, and he would not shut up. The whole time he drove himself into Eric's ass, he spouted dirty things into the vampire's ear. Even when they both lay there panting and dazed from their orgasms, he asked Eric how it was for him, that Eric was the hottest fuck he'd ever had, could he get Eric's number, and so on.

Eric finally confessed that he was still madly in love with his ex boyfriend, but that he had run off and couldn't find him.

"Well, I'm fraid I can't help you there. I'm a shitty tracker." He rolled onto his side and traced the lines of Eric's chest with his finger tips. "But I've got a second cousin, lives over in Rocky Mount. He's the damnedest thing you've ever seen." His interest peeked, Eric inquired more about this cousin, where he lived, how to find him. When he was sure he could find Earl Hodnett with relative ease, he gave Miles a proper thank you. A thank you that had the young werewolf nearly howling with pleasure as he writhed in the sheets, and left him speechless. Permanently.

Eric's business with Earl had amounted to a wild goose chase. He'd agreed to pay the moonshiner upfront to compensate Earl for his lost profits since he'd have to abandon his still. Earl's partner, Terry, was new to moonshining. And he was sure the mash he had fermenting would go to waste with him not there to oversee the process himself.

But Earl's week of searching Bayport had been a costly mistake. The self-proclaimed "best tracker in the south" turned up empty handed five nights in a row. Eric had let Earl go with his life, believing their business was finished. There was no sense causing two tragedies in this family, Earl did have children after all. But that money he'd given Earl would not go to waste. Earl could use it to pay for the lawyer he'd need when he was arrested by the state police for running an illegal still.

Now Eric had made the acquaintance of Emile Louvel, otherwise known as "Le Nez" by those in Louisiana, elsewhere, simply as "The Nose." He seemed a proper southern gentleman, although quite flamboyant. He had a taste for the fine and exquisite things in life, running an exotic perfumery near Jackson Square. Mr. Louvel listened sympathetically to the vampire's tale of woe and love lost, and he agreed to assist Eric, for a price.

Eric was low on funds now, no thanks to Mr. Hodnett, so he offered Emile the only thing he had left. Himself. The silvery-grey haired man chuckled warmly at Eric's offer.

"Oh, Monsieur Langehorne, you flatter me, yes. An old wolf and a young vampire would make strange bedfellows, no?"

"I have nothing else to offer Mr. Louvel, but I'm desperate now. I just have to get Frank back."

"Have you tried wooing him?"

"My rival has enlisted the help of some other vampires. They took some sort of oath."

"Ah, so there are enchantments in place that you cannot get around."

"Yes, I think."

"Excellent." He leaned forward and gently put his hand on Eric's knee. "I adore a challenge."

….

Author's Note:

Yes, short chapter is short. But this portion of the story had to stand alone to support the next chapter. I hope you are enjoying this sequel, all reviews are appreciated. Happy Hump Day Ya'll.


	5. Heatwave

Chapter 5: Heatwave

"Joe? Honey have you seen my keys?" Vanessa called to her husband as she rifled through the odd and ends of their catch all. The pewter bowl contained coins, screws, paperclips, ink pens and a few errant keys with no identifying fobs. The tall blonde woman had just received the keys to the repaired Mazda the night before when Joe and Biff brought the vehicle home. The collision center had even detailed the interior and it had that wonderful "new car smell."

Weeks had passed since the accident, Vanessa's bruises had begun to fade and the swelling in her nose had gone down considerably. And her aching ribs and back had finally eased. But Bayport, New York was experiencing the Dog Days of summer, and the humidity and heat were draining Vanessa of her energy. But who wouldn't be drained after five consecutive days of sticky, one hundred degrees or better days with no rain in sight?

She was thankful today was going to be easy on her. Vanessa had been assigned to cover the back-to-school fashion show being held at Barmet View Mall for the Gazette's local color insert. She looked forward to the cool air that would be blasting through the central air vents in the mall's events venue more than anything.

"Check my jeans! I may have left them in my pocket last night." Joe called from the shower. Vanessa trudged back into the bedroom. No jeans on the floor. Of course, for once Joe had probably put them in the dirty clothes hamper. She opened the bathroom door and was hit in the face with a wall of heat and steam.

"Gah! Joe, turn the vent on when you shower or we're going to have mold in here!" Well, the jeans had managed to make it to the floor just in front of the hamper. She had to give him at least an "A" for effort.

"Sorry Hon. Just leave the bathroom door open when you leave." His wife rolled her eyes and flipped on the switch for the vent fan.

"That'll trick the thermostat to run the AC too long, remember? It's just this side of the bathroom door. We'll have to take out a loan to pay the utility bill if this heat keeps up." Vanessa tried to say over the hum of the fan running.

"It takes electricity to run the vent too!"

"You'd argue with a sign post, you know that, right?" Vanessa called back as she pulled her keys out of Joe's jeans pocket and placed the soiled pants in the hamper, closing its lid with a loud slam.

She entered the kitchen and fixed a glass of ice water to help her cool off from the flash of heat that now had her perspiring…no…sweating. A few moments later she heard the slap of bare feet on the floor and turned to see Joe standing there, still wet, with a towel around his waist.

"Good, you haven't left yet."

"Joe you're getting the floor…" Her complaint was cut off by Joe kissing her.

"I'm sorry Van." He said finally. "But I didn't want you to leave for work still sore with me."

"I'm sorry too, Joe. I've just been really out of sorts since the wreck."

"And I'm still acting like a spoiled frat boy expecting his mom to pick up after him. I'll get better, I promise." Vanessa smiled skeptically, but kissed her husband back.

"Pick up some Chinese on your way home, will you?"

"Again? That'll be the second time this week." Joe asked his bride.

"It's too hot to heat up the kitchen. And I'm jonesing for some dumplings." She picked up her camera equipment bag and headed for the door.

"Love you!"

"Love you too!"

…..

"You're late!" Joe nearly jumped out of his skin after he switched on the light in his office. He wasn't expecting to see his brother sitting at his desk. He wasn't expecting to see Frank at the office at all today.

"Whoa! You scared the crap out of me bro." Joe plopped his messenger bag into the guest chair in front of his desk. "I didn't see your car."

"Phil dropped me off." Frank said sullenly. "I brought over a bunch of files and papers I had at the house. Most of them are closed cases you and Dad finished, I just finalized the paperwork."

"So, you're going to play Sally Secretary today?" Joe chuckled.

"It beats playing Sally Homemaker."

"Oh come on big brother. Domestic life suits you. Maybe in a few years you can be a stay-at-home dad."

"Asshat. If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want me here at the office." Frank stood from his brother's chair, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Bad leg day?"

"Yeah, we must be getting ready to have some rain. It's been throbbing since I woke up this morning."

"Oh, Halleluiah! This heat wave has been killer." Joe took his seat and hit the power button on his computer.

"Did someone say something about rain?" Fenton Hardy stood in the doorway of Joe's office, a briefcase in one hand, an iced coffee in the other.

"Frank's leg is our new weatherman." Joe laughed and Frank shot his brother a withering look.

"See Frank? I told you there was some truth to it. My left shoulder and elbow have been predicting the weather since nineteen seventy-eight." Fenton winked at his son jokingly.

"You two are hilarious." Frank deadpanned. "I'm going to dust off my computer and make some calls." The brunette hobbled over to his own office and flicked on the lights.

He settled into his familiar and comfortable office chair and as his computer went through its start up, Frank sifted through some mail waiting for him on his desk. Obviously, none of it was urgent since his father and Joe hadn't brought it by the house.

"If you're going through your mail, here, I was going to bring this stack by your house this evening." Fenton placed the bundle of recent mail on his son's desk.

"Thanks Dad."

"How long are you staying today?" Fenton sat in the chair across from his son's desk.

"Just until noon, Phil's going to pick me up on his lunch hour." Frank said as he sorted the envelopes into categories; it can wait, urgent, and waste of ink and paper. One thick envelope caught his attention. It was from the National Criminal and Legal Investigations Seminar and Conference.

"Did you and Joe sign up for this conference too?" Frank held the envelope up for his father to see. His father squinted to see the return address and NCLISC logo on the front.

"No, the registration deadline was after the first of the year. Joe and I… we were a little distracted."

"Sorry." Frank put down the envelope. "Do you or Joe want to go in my place?"

"What? Why would you ask that? Don't you want to go?" Fenton genuinely looked surprised at his oldest son.

"Well, yes I'd love to go. I've been dying to check out that new GPS regulations seminar. But you and Joe deserve to go more than I do. I've been out of commission for what? Going on eight months now?"

"So? This would be the perfect thing to get you fired back up. You've taken a backseat long enough. You were planning to come back into the office in a couple of weeks anyway."

"Yeah, well a lot of that is contingent on how well I do when I get back behind the wheel. I can't depend on you, Joe or Phil to chauffer me here and there all the time."

"Thought PT was going better." A concerned look crossed the father's features.

"I still get shooting pains down my leg, especially if my muscles are tensed up like when working the accelerator. And my right leg doesn't seem to react as quickly as I'd like when I hit the brake."

"It's just nerves son. Why don't you do what we did when you were first learning to drive? Get Phil to take you to some empty parking lot on a Sunday morning and tool around and get a feel for it." Frank chuckled at his father's Mr. Fix-It attitude. There was a simple solution to nearly everything.

"I don't think it's that simple, Dad. But we'll give it a try." Frank opened the envelope to read over the conference information inside. "Wow, this thing is in two weeks! When I turned this in last December it seems so far off."

"A lot's changed." Fenton said as he sipped his coffee.

"No kidding." Frank replied quietly.

…..

"No! Absolutely not! I forbid it!"

"You're not my mother, might I remind you."

"Maybe I need to call her and let her know about this."

"Okay for starters, no, you're not going to scare my poor mother to death by introducing yourself. And secondly, my dad knows about the trip, he's even encouraging me to go."

"Maybe I need to open his eyes to …"

"What happened to what you were saying a few weeks ago? Have you talked so some of your friends and associates? Any sign of Eric?"

"No, no sign of Eric since that odd feeling I had in Manhattan. None of my associates have heard from him either." The vampire relented.

"So? Then what's the problem?" Frank was bound and determined to win this argument.

"Are you sure you are well enough for this?" Amy countered, "And have you discussed this with Phil?" she was learning to how to push Frank's buttons, and she was getting good at it. The brunette gripped the phone a little tighter.

"No… I didn't mention it at lunch because I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go. But I've had some time to really think about it, and yes, I'd like to go. I was going to tell him tonight over dinner, but he's working late."

"I tell you what, you tell Phillip about your little plan. And if he agrees, you call me back."

Much to Amy's chagrin, she was interrupted a few hours later while in the middle of a conversation with Ezekiel. Ezekiel politely walked to the other end of the rooftop to give Amy some privacy while she took the call, but he could still hear her as if she were standing beside him.

"Has he taken leave of his senses as well?" The young vampire's eyes widened in surprise, wondering what on Earth Amy could be fussing about.

"Fine! I'll get Ezekiel to make the rounds tonight. I'll be over there in an hour to talk some sense into the two of you." She ended the call and proceeded to look through her contacts for another number.

"What's going on with Frank and Phil?" Ezekiel was bouncing on his heels in excitement.

"Frank wants to go to a convention out of state…"

"Whee! Road trip! Where are we going?" Ezekiel clapped his hands giddily.

"Hopefully _we_ aren't going anywhere." Amy said before turning her attention back to her cell phone. "Hello, Chester, this is Amy. Love, would you please put Allen on the phone? Thank you dear. Allen! Baywood Drive, one hour."

…..

At ten that evening Biff Hooper found himself banging on the future Hardy-Cohen (or did they say they were going to use Cohen-Hardy?) front door.

"Biff, what are you doing here this late? What's wrong?" Phil asked as he let his friend inside.

"You tell me. Your babysitter called and told me to be here in an hour. Where is she?"

"She's not here yet. Why would she call you?" But Biff just shrugged in exasperation.

"I dunno, Miss High-strung called like it was some sort of emergency and said for me to be here in an hour."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Frank exclaimed as he hobbled in from the bedroom. "All of this because I want to go to a seminar."

"So? Where is this seminar?" Biff crossed his arms impatiently, getting angrier by the minute that the condescending vampire had called him over for something so petty.

"Out of state." Frank answered in a small voice.

"Out of state? Pfft! What? Connecticut? New Jersey?" Biff scoffed.

"Louisiana. New Orleans to be exact." boomed an all too familiar feminine voice coming from behind Biff. Her cool breath on his neck as she spoke startled the living daylights out of Biff. The muscular man leapt several inches and let out with an embarrassingly girlish scream.

"I got you." Amy said in sing-song manner as she slinked past and sat delicately on the sofa.

Biff recovered from his scare only to become completely flabbergasted by the trio.

"I don't see why you're so up in arms about this, Amy. I'll be fine. What are the chances I could possibly run into Eric all the way down in New Orleans? He probably would never think to look for me there. And you said he can't touch me."

"To clarify, he cannot touch you because he cannot approach you. That does not mean someone or something cannot draw you to him." Amy informed Frank. "Still, I don't like the idea of you going alone."

"He won't be. Phil will go with him, right?" Biff interjected.

"Uh… about that Biff, no I can't. I took off so much time when Frank was in the hospital, I really won't have enough vacation time built up again until almost the end of the year. And I really can't touch that time until closer to the wedding." Phil added apologetically. Biff turned to Amy.

"Well you're going, right?"

"Of course."

"You were going regardless if I went with Frank or not." Phil said.

"True, but the problem we have now is who will be with Frank during the daylight hours."

"I think I'll be fine during the day."

"Amy has a point. If Eric employs a witch, demon or hell, even your average human, you would still have a target on your back."

"I suggest Biff goes as your "plus one" Frank." All the mortals' eyes widened in shock.

"Me?"

"Ezekiel can stay here in Bayport and look after Phil at night. You and I can accompany Frank. You take the day, and naturally I will take the night."

"Alright, can I say something?" Frank piped up, but Phil stopped him.

"I'm sort of liking this idea."

"Phil!" Frank stood, indignant and face coloring with anger. "I'm sick and tired of being handled with kid gloves! I mean, I'm grateful for everyone's concern. I know it's because you all care for me. But I'm still the same Frank I was a year ago!" he held up his cane. "Is it this? Everyone's worried that Poor Frank can't take care of himself, defend himself? I've been living in this bubble for eight months, and the moment I want to step out of it you all fall apart!" He looked at Phil, hurt on both of their faces.

"And you, I thought you wanted me to go back to work, to get out there. You know well the risks that involved!" Frank limped hurriedly out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.


	6. Rain

Chapter 6: Rain

The slam of Frank and Phil's bedroom door resounded through the house. The sound was soon echoed by the rumble of thunder overhead. Phil sank back into the cushions of his favorite chair, eyes bright with frustration and guilt. He had to admit, he'd grown quite comfortable with their current living situation. Even though it sounded like a strange idea, Phil slept quite well at night knowing Frank was safe day in and day out, cloistered at home and protected at night by the faithful vampires. But that was not the Frank he fell in love with. The one he'd secretly loved all these years was a Frank Hardy full of life and adventure, who took risks to help people and bring others to justice.

If he held Frank back, he was no better than that overbearing bastard Eric who had been responsible for hurting Frank so badly. Then again, there was a part of Phil's brain that felt justified for wanting things to stay the way they were right now _because_ of Eric.

Eric hadn't been the one to witness first-hand the damage that had been done to Frank. He didn't get to see the silent tears in Frank's eyes when the morphine would wear off and he was unable to effectively alert anyone that he was in pain. Eric wasn't there to comfort Frank from the night terrors as he relived his torture and confinement in his sleep. Nor had he seen the setbacks Frank endured from the second surgery, the weeks and months of physical therapy, the pride on Frank's face when he could walk free of the walker, the despair when he's scared himself on his first attempt in months to drive.

No, Eric hadn't gone through any of that with Frank. Phil had. He and Joe and his family and friends were there for every milestone of the older Hardy's recovery and had cheered him on. Why on G-d's Green Earth would Phil want to see Frank put himself in a situation where he could wind up in mortal peril once again?

Phil sighed. Nope, he couldn't treat Frank like a child anymore. It wasn't fair to Frank, and it wasn't fair to their relationship.

Phil withdrew from his musings after a flash of lightening and crack of thunder shook him. He noticed Amy scrolling through her phone for G-d knows what and Biff was texting someone. He'd been vaguely aware they that they had been speaking among themselves while he was in his daze after Frank stormed out.

"I guess I'll go talk to him." Phil muttered as he started to get up.

"Give him a minute. He just got off the phone with Joseph." Amy said quietly, not looking up from her phone. A loud bang and clatter could be heard, followed by a few muffled curse words. Phil was startled, but Amy and Biff seemed just as blasé as nothing had happened. Damn their overly sensitive hearing.

"Now?" Phil asked tersely. Biff sighed audibly and Amy shrugged.

"Now would be good." she replied and Phil launched himself to the bedroom door before he realized he had no idea what he was going to say to Frank, or at least, how to say it so it made sense to anyone other than himself.

He knocked softly on the door.

"Frank, Babe?"

"Come in." Frank said thickly. Phil stepped in to see the lamp usually Frank's bedside table was knocked onto the floor, the shade was bent and the ceramic ginger jar base was broken in about five different pieces. "Sorry about the lamp…I… I just…" but he didn't finish. He sat there slumped on the side of the bed. Phil then saw Frank's cane, lying halfway between the bedroom and en suite bathroom, and Frank's cell phone had thankful landed on the throw rug just in front of the dresser.

Phil lowered himself next to Frank and gently covered his fiancée's hand with his own.

"Joe called a few minutes ago… He said he came home this evening and Vanessa was throwing up so badly that she looked dehydrated. They just got back from the Emergency Room."

"Is she okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's "wrong" per se, nothing an IV and some soda crackers couldn't fix. She's pregnant. My little brother's going to be a father." Frank grinned bitterly, Phil's eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, that's great, I guess. I mean, this is a good thing, right? I know they're still newlyweds and just starting out…"

"Oh yeah! Joe's on cloud nine. He's scared shitless, but happier than someone without good sense." Frank said.

"Then, may I ask what all this," Phil motioned to the mess on the floor, "was about?"

"Me, being a brat and feeling sorry for myself." Frank said sheepishly. "I gave him and Van my best and hung up. Then I had a little hissy fit." He squeezed Phil's hand and looked into those amber and hazel eyes. "I'm scared, and I'm frustrated with myself. I'm worried I'll never be normal again, that I won't be able to take care of you, or anyone else who comes along."

"Babe…" Phil turned on the bed so he could look at Frank better. The brunette's chocolaty-brown eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I was out of line and you've taken such good care of me and sacrificed so much…"

"Shh…. It's okay. You're entitled to have a blow up at least once a year." Phil smiled, Frank sniffed and laughed inelegantly. "I don't think we'll ever truly be even in the self-sacrificing department, Mr. Hero. But I do it because I love you."

"I think the pot is calling the kettle black, Mr. Scaled-down-a-chimney-and-kicked-vampire-ass." Frank chuckled.

"So, are we good?" Phil whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Frank leaned forward.

"I dunno." He met Frank halfway and kissed him. Frank wrapped his arms around the raven-haired man and buried his face in the other's shoulder. The house shook again from the concussion of the thunder outside.

"Would you say this is our first fight?" Phil asked. Frank raised his head to think.

"I believe so…"

"Hot damn!" Phil sat back excitedly.

"What?" Frank sat up straighter, but Phil leaned in with a conspiratory look on his face.

"Make up sex!"

…..

"You genuinely care for Frank and Phil, don't you?" Biff said from out of no where. Amy looked up from her phone, an eyebrow quirked.

"Was there ever a doubt?"

"I've listened to my grandfather's stories all my life. Anytime he came across a human and vampire relationship, the vamp was getting a hell of a lot more out of it than the human ever would." Biff put his phone on the coffee table and scooted to the edge of his seat. "He never mentioned a vampire doing something selfless like what you and Zeke are doing for my friends. I keep racking my brain to figure out what you could gain from all of this. But I can find nothing financial, and certainly not sexual. They're not letting you feed off of them, as far as I know…"

"They are not…"

"That's what I figured. So what is it then?"

"Let me ask you, Allen. What was there for you to gain by attacking the Hersher Mansion and retrieving Frank?"

"Easy, I got my friend back."

"Why do you protect him?"

"He's always been there for me, especially after my dad died. And he and his brother have saved my hide more than once. It's just the right thing to do."

"So why is it so unbelievable that my little brother and I do the same? Frank saved us, too."

Biff shook his head in disbelief.

"I've just never met a vampire that didn't have an angle."

"And until your grandfather, I had never met a hunter that would permit someone like myself to leave his sight alive."

"He was definitely one of a kind."

"That he was."

Amy's phone suddenly tweeted. After she answered it her face became serious.

"So are you willing to put our differences aside to concentrate on protecting the people we care for?"

"For now." Biff answered after a moment. "But the first hint that you've got some sort of agenda…"

"Good, Ezekiel saw some suspicious movement a few blocks from here and he's tracking it now. Care to join us?" Biff nodded and they both stood to leave. At that moment Phil stepped out of the bedroom holding the bathroom's waste basket full of ceramic lamp shards and the crumpled shade.

"Where are you two going?" Phil asked.

"Ezekiel saw something, we're going to check it out." Amy said quickly as she headed for the door. "Tell Frank we'll see him tomorrow night when he's feeling better." Surprised, Phil turned to Biff.

"You're going together?"

"If we're going to work together, we may as well start now. I'll call you if we see anything." He patted Phil's arm and the vampire and the hunter dashed out into the night. Phil could feel a cool wind blowing up with the promise of rain. He hoped they found whatever Ezekiel was tracking before the oncoming storm washed away the scent.

…..

Later that evening Frank had showered and was exiting the bathroom when he saw Phil sitting on the edge of the bed, a box in his hands.

"What's that?"

"A compromise." Phil said as he patted the space on the bed beside him. Frank joined him on the bed as Phil opened the lid. Inside the box were dozens of vials of vampire blood.

"Phil…"

"I know you don't want to mess up your physical therapy. But you obviously can't take PT while you're down in New Orleans. It would make me feel a lot better about you going if you fortified your system with this."

"Phil, I don't want to become dependent of that stuff to get by on a daily basis."

"You don't have to. You can stop taking it when you get back. But please, if something happened to you… Just this once, _please_." Frank sighed and took vial from the box. He held it up to the light.

"You don't have PT scheduled tomorrow."

"Okay, okay! Would you mind getting me something to chase it with? The one time I've had this…"

"Yeah, it's an acquired taste. I usually take it in the morning and follow it with coffee." Phil left the bedroom and returned with a glass of iced tea. He watched as Frank choked the serum back, and accepted the glass of tea from his fiancée.

"I'll get my shower now, any hot water left?" asked Phil.

"Yeah, you'll be fine." As Phil closed the bathroom door, Frank removed his glasses and stretched out in bed.

He was physically and emotionally exhausted from the half day of work and the meltdown from a few hours before. Frank closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax. Rain had begun to patter on the rooftop and soon he was asleep.

Sometime later Phil crawled into bed, he was glad to see Frank sleeping peacefully. Phil kissed Frank's relaxed forehead and snuggled down beside him. He felt Frank stir and a warm arm encircled his waist. Frank's fingers fanned out and explored Phil's chest, then wandered over his ribs and traveled downward to trace out his hipbone.

"I believe you mentioned something about make up sex?" Frank whispered and proceeded to trace the outer shell of Phil's ear with his tongue.

"I do believe I did." Phil grinned and rolled over to face Frank.

"Have you been on the using the vampire blood for long?" Frank had a curious look on his face, and Phil was beginning to wonder where this was going.

"A few months, just in case something happened to Amy or Ezekiel. Why?"

"So you've been holding back. Remember when you carried me out of the mansion? You could bench press the bed, couldn't you?"

"Uh, maybe. Frank, please tell me this is going where I hope it is, and not an argument."

"Oh yes, we'll get there. But I don't want you to hold back tonight. Fuck me Phil." He grabbed Phil by the shoulders and rolled both of them so that Frank was on his back and Phil was on top of him.

"Whoa! Frank!" Phil was shocked to say the least. He knew the vampire serum was fast-acting, but he wasn't expecting the ease with which Frank pulled him. He couldn't help but laugh in delight at the look of mischief in the brunette's eyes. It was a look he hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

"Just remember Baby, you asked for it." Phil grabbed Frank's wrists and pinned his fiancée to the mattress.

Their kisses were a mess of teeth and tongues and lips. Frank rutted up against Phil, experiencing a freedom of movement he hadn't felt in a long time. He shifted and wrapped his long legs around Phil's waist, digging his heels into the dark haired boy's buttocks. Phil released one of Frank's wrists and scrambled for the bedside table, searching blindly for the little bottle of lube he knew to be in the corner.

Phil sat up, clicked open the bottle's cap and poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He rested the ankle of Frank's bad leg on his shoulder as he reached down to prepare him. Frank hissed at the initial intrusion, but relaxed quickly, reveling in the feel of Phil's finger in him. A second was quickly added, scissoring and stretching the tight muscles. His fingers ran over Frank's prostate and the brunette's breath hitched and he threw his head back.

"Ah! Oh mah G-d!" Frank panted.

"Mmm… That feel good Baby?" Frank couldn't answer verbally, but he nodded and gasped again as Phil exacted the sweet torture again and again.

"Do you feel up for trying something?" Frank nodded again and opened his lustfully dazed eyes to look at Phil. Phil put a hand under Frank's back and helped him sit up. He supported Frank's weight as he encouraged Frank to wrap his legs around his waist again. Frank steadied himself as he held onto Phil's shoulders while his fiancée took himself in hand, slicking up his cock before lining it up with Frank's ass.

Then slowly he began to lower Frank onto his cock. As Frank sank down onto Phil, he unwrapped his legs from around Phil's waist and straddled his lap. Although Phil was supporting Frank's lower body, he relinquished control and let Frank set the pace. Once Frank was fully impaled on Phil's cock he took a moment to adjust to the new position and the different sensations it produced.

Phil leaned back a little, resting his upper body weight on his palms and locking his elbows. Frank followed forward and kissed him. In doing so he rose up slightly, then pushed back down. He too then leaned back and supported himself with one hand on Phil's knee, the other hand was around his own leaking red cock.

"I wish you could see yourself. You are a sight fucking yourself on my cock while you jerk off." Phil moaned lowly and thrust his hips upward hard, catching Frank a little off-guard. But he caught on to what Phil was starting, and bounced slightly on his knees. They began a rhythm of tandem thrusting and bouncing, harder and harder, causing the box springs to creak and groan in protest.

Frank leaned forward again and captured one of Phil's tanned nipples between his teeth, earning a particularly hard thrust that hit his prostate again just right.

"Gah! Fu… Phil, not gonna last much…"

"Uh uh, not yet. Don't cha do it!" Phil commanded. Frank grasped Phil's shoulders to steady himself, digging his fingers into the firm muscles he found there. Suddenly Phil grabbed Frank's hips and held on firmly as he laid back, continuing to thrust his hips upward, but with more power because he had more leverage.

"Ahhh… fuck Frank! You're so damn hot 'n tight. C'mon! Now!" That was all the encouragement Frank needed as the heat that had been pooling exploded within him. His cum shot out all over between his abs and Phil's chest. His muscles clenched down hard around Phil, causing his fiancée's hips to stutter and rut wildly, finally releasing and filling Frank up. Once he could feel the pulsing of Phil's cock cease, Frank collapsed onto the other's chest, blissfully exhausted and panting.

"That was…"

"A-fucking-mazing." Phil finished, out of breath himself. "How's your leg?"

"Izfine." Frank mumbled drowsily.

"No, no, don't fall asleep on me yet. We gotta get cleaned up." Phil poked Frank in a well known ticklish spot on his side. Frank sat up surprised he actually had the energy to do it after such acrobatics.

"Wow, I'm not as tired as I thought I would be."

"See….?" Phil chided. Frank smirked and gently eased off of Phil. When he stood from the bed it took only a minute to get his land-legs back. Phil held up a hand in an unspoken request for assistance. Frank pulled him up and in fluid movement, hoisted him up over his shoulder.

"Holy Shit! Frank what are you doing?"

"I thought you wanted to get cleaned up." Frank answered as he turned and carried Phil to the bathroom.


	7. The Rainbow's End

Chapter 7: The Rainbow's End

A middle-aged looking man with silvery-grey hair shook the raindrops off of his jacket before he entered the lobby of the Borgata Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Posh and welcoming even at this absurd hour of the night, a concierge nodded in greeting as the man passed by his desk.

"Good evening Mr. Louvel, did you enjoy your evening?"

"Oui, it was a very productive night." Emile Louvel winked at the concierge and patted his coat pocket, implying that he'd had a very fortunate night gambling. "Has Mr. Langhorne returned to the property?"

"No sir. He left a message for you." The concierge scrolled through a list of messages for their guests. "Yes, he said he was going to take in a show and get something to eat. He promised to be back before daylight. It sounds like he knows how to have a good time."

Emile smiled slyly at the boy's commentary. Then the young man took in Mr. Louvel's damp appearance.

"You should have called us, Sir. We could have sent a car over so you wouldn't have had to walk out in this weather." Emile glanced at the concierge's name tag.

"Nonsense Jeffrey, it was just a fine, misting rain. Rather refreshing in this heat." The older man pulled out his key card and waved Jeffrey off. "Bonne nuit, dear Jeffrey. I am going to retire for the night."

"Good night sir."

Emile boarded the elevator and arrived a few minutes later on the floor that led to the elegantly furnished suite he was sharing with Eric. Once in the room he pulled back the curtains to gaze at the brilliant lights of the boardwalk below. Yes, it had been a very productive night.

Witches. Eric's mother-figure of a vampire had employed witches to enchant the home of his former lover. It wasn't hard to figure out, at least for him. He could see where a less experienced werewolf could be easily confounded by the dizzying sensation of the spell that blocked the scent of the prey. But too many Weres rely on their noses only for tracking. They don't even consider utilizing their other senses.

It was simple enough. Plot out everywhere the sensation of vertigo would initiate, and once a mental map of the area was made, it was only a matter of locating the center point. He'd pushed through many a spell over the decades, enduring the nausea and confusion the enchanter meant as a deterrent.

Once he found that Hardy boy's home, he waited, listened, and observed. Sure, Emile was strong for his age, and he could very well charge in and drag the boy out. But then he'd caught the scent of the vampires Eric warned him about. And they kept the company of a slayer too? Oh, this just got more interesting by the minute.

Emile Louvel was a different breed of werewolf. He'd long grown tired of the hunt outright. Emile liked to play, and draw his prey out. And as he dashed away from the house once he realized he'd been noticed, a plan began to formulate in his mind. Eric would fight him for sure, to be so close to his prize only to turn away. But anything worth having was worth waiting for.

…..

"I swear Amy, I would never have called you if I wasn't sure!" Ezekiel insisted.

"Calm down little one." Amy soothed, knowing that the young vampire did not like to disappoint her. She, Ezekiel and Biff were several miles outside of Bayport now, the heavy rain having all but washed away the scent they were tracking. Biff was now examining a print in the mud that was being obscured by the downpour every second he stood there.

Why the hell had a werewolf been in such a suburban area? The den he was familiar with stuck to the countryside where deer, beaver and rabbits were more abundant. Judging by the size of the print, it was a fairly large Were. Surely squirrels and stray cats would be a complete waste of time for one this size. So what was the point?

Something in his brain suggested it was way too much of a coincidence that a werewolf would be spotted just a few blocks from Frank's house. But if it was after Frank or Phil, how did it get around the enchantments? It was time to pay Stanley Woods, the local den leader, another visit to see if there were any shenanigans going on in the pack.

Finally Biff's keen eyes spotted a single hair. He gingerly lifted the three inch long strand and stood to inspect it.

"Amy, do you mind?" He held the hair out to her and Amy rolled her eyes.

"Do you know how long it took for me to finally get that smell out of my nose last time?" She huffed, but accepted the hair and inhaled. "Well, that is different."

"I could barely smell the "Were-ness", but it definitely looks like a wolf hair." Biff admitted.

"Baking soda, Lavender, Oat, and something herbal… Oh! Whew! There it is. Uff!" She shoved the strand back for Biff to take, her nose wiggling. He withdrew a tissue from his pocket and tucked the hair in the middle.

"The Were covered its scent. That must be why I didn't notice it until it was close enough for me to detect its movement." Ezekiel rationalized. Amy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'll take this with me when I talk to Stanley." Biff turned to the vampire duo.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm ready to go home and get dry."

"Agreed. We will see you again tomorrow night at Frank's house. Ten o'clock." said Amy.

"You know, some of us have to get up and go to work in the morning. Eight thirty."

"Not dark enough. Nine thirty."

"Nine."

"Quarter after nine. And that's final!" Amy turned on her heel. "Come Ezekiel. We have several more hours before daylight that we can use to patrol. And Allen needs his beauty rest." Suddenly they were gone, leaving Biff alone on the country road.

"Good bye!" he called out to no one. "Nice working with you! I'll just walk home from here... In the rain. No problem."

…..

Frank woke up before sunrise Saturday morning feeling like a new man. His leg didn't hurt, he didn't limp.

"Let's go to the beach this morning." Frank suggested as he woke Phil.

"Urff, no… the surf'll be too cool after that rain last night." Phil protested and snuggled deeper into the covers.

"We could go for a run, I haven't stretched my legs since before Christmas. I can't run here yet, too soon, the neighbors will think it's kind of funny that I was hobbling yesterday and jogging today."

"Mmmm…" his fiancée grumbled.

"Phiilll…" Frank pulled the covers away from Phil's face and batted his dark eyelashes, throwing the dark haired boy his most pleadingly innocent look.

"Oh G-d Frank! Alright, alright!" Phil huffed, but he was happy to see Frank excited about doing something for a change. "If we leave now we'll get there just before sunrise."

The cooler morning air felt heavenly compared to the oppressive heat from the days before. The refreshing sea breeze whipped through Frank's chestnut hair as he sat on the hood of _his_ car, his charcoal grey Impala. Thankfully Phil had been driving the vehicle at least once a week to keep it running properly. Frank had giddily climbed into the driver's seat and rolled the windows down for the drive up Shore Road to their favorite stretch of beach. Now sitting on the hood with Phil by his side they watched the sun breach the horizon, painting the sky in warming orange and fuchsia hues.

"I'll never get tired of seeing this." Frank said quietly. Phil squeezed Frank's knee in understanding.

"Ready to start stretching?" Phil asked as he dismounted from the hood. Frank nodded and proceeded to bend and flex his muscles to loosen up for the run.

"Okay, to the lighthouse and back?" Frank suggested, but Phil shook his head.

"Why don't we just aim for that fourth lifeguard chair? You don't want to over do it."

"What? I feel like a million bucks!" Frank and Phil began at a slow trot, heading up the shore.

"Yeah, but you're not going to feel worth a plug nickel if you strain your muscles. When that stuff wears off you're weaker muscles are going to feel it." His fiancée warned.

But Frank just smiled and continued to pick up speed, his body beginning to recall the familiar rhythm and pace of his old routine. It was exhilarating, his feet pounding on the firm sand, the lung-cleansing salt air, the squawk of seagulls overhead and the thundering of the incoming tide.

The two young men ran along in silence as they passed the first of the life guard stations. A young woman in a red tankini top and shorts waved casually as she opened the doors and windows on the small wooden building. They met a few more joggers along the way, until finally they neared the fourth chair.

"Do…you want to… stop and catch your breath?" Phil asked while he ran.

"Nah… I'm good." Frank said. When they got to the chair Phil stopped and turned to head back but Frank kept going.

"Frank!" Phil called. "C'mon Babe!" But he could see where Frank was headed.

"Eeyngeshparter!" he hollered as he followed Frank toward the lighthouse. The brunette broke into a sprint, gaining several yards on Phil. As he approached the part of the beach that became craggier and laden with large rocks that made up the terrain that lead up the lighthouse, Frank spread his arms wide and whooped in sheer delight and joy.

"Woo! Yeah!" He bounced and pumped his fist in the air. "I did it Phil! Did ya see that!"

He launced himself into Phil's arms as he caught up to him. Phil lifted Frank up into a jostling bear hug.

"Yeah you stubborn pain in the ass! I see that!" But he was smiling as he admonished his lover. He lost his footing and they both tumbled onto the sand, Frank quickly braced himself to ensure his full weight didn't land on Phil. Phil was momentarily winded, but as he recovered he noticed the breathless look on Frank's face.

"Kiss me you hard headed fool." And Frank obliged.

…..

Hot, sticky, and now gritty with sand, Phil made a bee line for the shower when they got home.

"Mind if I join you?" Frank asked as he removed his contact lenses over the bathroom sink. His eyes stung a little from the sunblock that had mixed with his sweat.

"Sure, but give me a minute, trying to get he sand out of my hair." Frank ignored him and stepped in behind Phil.

"Lemme help you with that." He said huskily, placing light kisses on Phil's neck and shoulder. He wrapped his arms around the curly-haired boy's waist. One of Frank's hands traveled up the planes of Phil's chest, the other skimmed over the happy trail below his fiancee's navel. Phil could feel Frank's hardening member brush against his ass while the other boy's hand traveled further down, encircling the base of his cock.

Frank pulled himself closer to Phil's body until their bodies were flush together while he stroked his lover to complete hardness. Phil's could feel his body relax into the care Frank was giving it. He leaned slightly forward and rested his hands on the shower wall. This exposed his toned back to Frank, who delighted in kissing and nuzzling his spine, dipping ever lower until he had to drop down onto his knees.

"Ah! Frank, baby, are you sure about that? I got so hot and sweaty…" but his protests were cut off as Frank spread the globes of his ass wide and swiped gently with that hot tongue.

"You're fine… you always smell and taste so good…" He pressed with his tongue again, a little harder, making his lover gasp. Phil took himself in hand and stroked his now neglected cock lazily, relishing in the attention Frank was giving his entrance. He leaned forward again, resting his head on the arm that was supporting him against the wall now. That made him push his ass out further, and Frank took that opportunity to breach him, the wily and firm muscle massaging sinfully.

"Shit… Babe that's … Mmmm…." Frank was kneading his ass, pushing further in and then pulling out. It was driving Phil crazy, his knees began to tremble and shake. Soon Frank withdrew his tongue in favor of his fingers, easily stretching Phil, preparing him. He rubbed up against that magical bundle that he knew would drive Phil nuts and was rewarded with a low keening sound from above. He knew Phil would be getting close, if the way he was clamping down on his fingers were any indication.

Frank stood up, more gracefully than he ever could even before the vampire disaster, and turned his lover to face him. He attacked Phil's mouth, delving inside and dueling with his tongue. Frank ran his fingers through Phil's wet wavy locks, still feeling the grit of sand. Oh yeah, forgot about that, he thought, but dismissed it as Phil grasped his cock to tug and stroke.

"Grab something." Frank warned and before Phil realized what he was doing, Frank had grabbed the back of his thighs and hoisted him up. Instinctively Phil wrapped his legs around Frank's waist. His back slapped the shower wall and he clutched Frank's shoulders, the press of the tip of Frank's cock teasing his entrance.

"Fuck yes!" Phil cried. Frank kissed him again.

"Are you ready?" the brunette asked. Phil looked at him like he'd fallen off the turnip truck.

"Now! Fuck me…" Frank thrust up as he pushed Phil's hips down, cutting Phil's order off and in turn they both moaned. Frank's hips pistoned up and down, the angle just right for running over Phil's prostate. He hardly noticed the fingers that were digging into his shoulders, all he cared about was the babbling that Phil was doing, watching Phil removing one hand from his shoulder to pump his own cock, his head thrown back in his own world of pleasure.

Frank had never felt so strong or powerful during sex in his entire life. It was thrilling, empowering … healing. Phil had been so patient, gentle when he'd needed it, firm and controlling when Frank had needed that too… And now Frank could return the favor, to allow Phil to just let go and let him to the heavy lifting. His heart swelled with love, and as Phil cracked his eyes open and gave Frank a sultry and yet trusting look, an incendiary feeling consumed his chest and groin. He thrust once, twice more, and then he roared as his orgasm hit him so hard. Frank felt the warm splash of Phil's cum coat both of their bodies as those inner muscles clamped down on him.

Frank buried his head in the crook of Phil's neck and shoulder, panting harder than he had after their run from the lighthouse. He was aware of Phil's harsh breaths, and the hot hands that grasped the back of his neck and shoulder.

"That was…"

"Yeah…"

"Think we better wash up before the water gets cold?"

"Then a nap, definitely a nap."


	8. A Shaky Triad

Chapter 8: A Shaky Triad

Stanley Woods was a man of medium height and medium build. He had dark grey eyes, and light brown hair with streaks of grey that began appearing in his early thirties. He lived a quiet life, relatively speaking.

He had a wife and three teenaged kids. Stanley was a volunteer firefighter and worked with his dad in the family vineyard. He went to church on Sunday, Bible study on Wednesday nights (except during harvest) and weekends were filled with high school football games, baseball games or volleyball, depending on the season.

But from the community at large, Stanley Woods garnered a well-guarded secret. Stanley was a werewolf. His father was one, so was his grandfather. As a matter, of fact just about every male in his family as far back as anyone could remember shared the trait. When he thought of his eldest son, Charlie, he knew the change would come about any day, or night, rather. The teen had already started getting facial hair, and would get moody when the moon was particularly bright in the night sky.

Stanley's heart would swell with pride knowing that before the end of the year his boy would be joining their den. The local den was a collective of werewolves who banded together to look out for each other, their families, their community, much like Jaycees, Lion's, or Rotary Clubs. And just as importantly, they kept each other in check.

Rogue werewolves were not welcome. They caused problems, got out of line. Rogues could upset the precarious balance of hunting times, prey population, and the age-old rule to remain hidden from the parts of the community that weren't in the know.

There were exceptions, however. Two mailboxes down from his farm had lived one of the most outstanding vampire hunters he and his father had ever had the honor of knowing. Stanley's den and Alf Hooper's family had teamed up on many occasions to combat a common foe. Old Man Hooper was gone now, but his grandsons maintained their alliance, and as well as trying to keep the farm up. That was proving difficult however, as neither boy had taken up a vocation in agriculture. But an agreement was in the works for Stanley's family to rent out the front part of the property to continue cultivating those dogwoods.

Stanley was about halfway through his workday, pruning tiny, misshapen grapes from the vines so the larger ones could flourish, when the heavy metallic thud of a door could be heard near the barn. He looked over to see who else but Biff Hooper stepping away from his truck, looking around the trellises. Biff had called late last night, just as that storm was moving onward. He'd said it was important, but did not elaborate. Maybe he and his cousin had finally come to an agreeable figure for that rent.

"Eh, Biff! Over here!" Biff's head turned in the direction Stanley had called from and waved as he headed into the vineyard.

"Afternoon, Stan." Biff greeted the man.

"Did you and Buddy come to an agreement?"

"Not yet. I think Buddy's just having a hard time imagining someone other than Papa working that land. But I think your last offer was reasonable." Stanley's face fell a little.

"So you're not here about the farm?"

"Afraid not, I think we've got another rogue."

"Oh, come on Biff. That last one you thought was rogue turned out to be Doug Hodnett's cousin from Virginia, he had permission to hunt. Doug's already apologized a thousand times for that idiot getting out in the road causing that wreck…"

"Humor me, please." Biff removed the tissue from his jeans pocket and opened it to reveal the silvery looking hair.

Stanley sighed, but picked up the strand to examine. He inhaled and immediately paled. He could detect the floral and herbal notes that cloaked the hair. But the scent of the Were it covered was familiar. It stirred memories of panic and danger.

"The Nose…" Stanley muttered to himself.

"Excuse me?"

"The Nose. That's the nickname for this Were. He's a killer tracker, master of cloaking his scent." He handed the strand back to Biff as if it were contaminated with something toxic. "May I ask how you came across that?"

"Some friends of mine thought they saw something last night. I went after it and found the tracks, and this hair. It was a suburban area. I've never known your pack to hunt in the 'burbs'."

"We don't! We have a strict rule about that. And if The Nose is in the suburbs, it's bad news for whoever he was stalking. It's bad news for us too. He's definitely persona non grata in these parts."

"What do you know about him? Who is he and where's he from?" Biff asked, alarmed by his associate's fear. He'd known Stanley all of his life and he had never seen the man this unnerved.

"He's French. Old as the hills, but that doesn't mean much for our kind. He's very slick, and very deadly. Don't know where he is now though, he's been known to hop around here and there over the years. He's got a ton of aliases, but he leans on making up ones that have some sort of meaning. Like, when I had my run in with him, he was going by "Argent Chase". Which, loosely translated, is like Silver Hunter."

"You had a run in with him?"

"Years ago, back when I was nineteen, hell I was still considered a whelp. He'd wanted rights to hunt on our pack's lands. That would have been fine. He was the new sommelier at the winery we dealt with. Granddad thought he seemed friendly enough. But we started hearing about mysterious human deaths shortly after he was granted access. So we tailed him one night, watched him stalk this guy I had gone to high school with. Before he could pounce, my Granddad blocked him, renounced his rights to hunt on our lands.

Oh boy, did he go ape-shit! That was a long fight. We all got roughed up, my Granddad worst of all. But The Nose finally got the message he was no longer welcome, and limping with his tail literally tucked between his legs, he got the hell out of there. Dad and I thought Granddad should have laid the deathblow, but he showed mercy. Two days later we found Granddad dead in the vineyard, motherfucker had mauled him in broad daylight. We'd tried to track him, but he'd quit the winery and had left without a trace that we could pick up on. He'd covered his scent so heavily it threw all of our senses off."

"I'm sorry Stanley. I never knew that was how your grandfather really died. Growing up, I was always told he had an accident on the tractor."

"Alf knew the truth. He and your dad tried to help in the hunt. Granddad and Alf had been pretty good friends." Stanley said fondly, remember the two older men laughing and joking while they ate breakfast at the local diner on Saturday mornings, a ritual they'd shared for years.

Biff tucked the tissue back into his pocket.

"Well, I appreciate the information you've given me. At least I now have an idea of what we're dealing with."

"Thanks for bringing the bastard being in the area to my attention. I'll get my guys to look around and see if we can pick up on anything else for you."

They shook hands and bid each other farewell. Biff mulled over the information he had just received as he drove back to his apartment. If this "Nose" character was after Frank, maybe it would be a good idea to get his friends out of Bayport for a while. Maybe if The Nose could not find Frank, it would give up and leave the area. The trip to New Orleans was sounding better all the time.

…..

Frank hummed happily as he set out bowls of chips and salsa on the coffee table. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was just a few minutes after nine. Biff and Amy would be over in a little while. He was curious what sort of solution they had come up between the two of them for his "going out of town" problem. He looked forward to the looks on their faces when he had the pleasure of telling him their worrying was for nothing.

That dose of vampire blood Frank took the night before had done wonders. He'd had so much energy today, he ran, made love to Phil – twice, and moved the furniture around in his office to make it a bit for practical for his use (he would not in a million years have told Phil he hadn't liked the way he'd set it up).

It was too soon and too risky for him to show off his new mobility and strength to the neighbors, so as much as he would have loved to join Phil in the backyard pruning back those hydrangeas and rose bushes and mowing the grass, Frank had to settle for giving the house an impeccable cleaning. Even when he was done with that he still had time to kill and nervous energy to burn. Thus, Round Three with Phil. But this time they had made love slower, lazier, and more gently than the aerobic sessions from that morning.

A firm slap to his behind caught him only a little by surprise. Frank heard Phil enter the room and approach him, even heard the swinging back of a limb before it made contact.

"Youch! What was that for?" Frank noticed the playful smirk on Phil's face, and he knew that look.

"I'm sorry Babe. I can resist anything but temptation, and _dat ass_ just looked like it needed slapping. This is one time I wish Miss Punctuality could run late for a change, by thirty minutes or so…" He gave Frank's tush a squeeze and pulled him close, kissing him possessively.

"Well do not blame me! You can thank Allen for such an early meeting. If you would like, I will keep a look out while you run back to the bedroom and take care of your arousals. I could smell your pheromones from the sidewalk." Amy commented as she entered their home.

"Why hello Amy, why don't you just come on in and make yourself comfortable." Phil snarked. Man, did he ever hate that Amy felt entitled to waltz into their home unannounced anytime she pleased. To her credit however, she usually had a good reason when she did. Phil or Frank could very easily rescind her invitation to enter their home, but with the protection that she and Ezekiel were providing, and the fact that _she had given them the house_, that would probably come off as a wee bit ungrateful.

"Umm…I appreciate the offer Amy, but…no." Frank replied. He stepped back from Phil and headed back to the kitchen. "Can I offer you some hot tea, or would you like something cold tonight?"

"I'm not thirsty, but thank you." When Frank was out of earshot Phil sat across from Amy and leaned in.

"I finally convinced Frank to try the vampire blood last night. But I think it's sort of gone to his head." Phil whispered.

"You are afraid he will think himself invincible and wave off our help?"

"Yeah."

"Worry not, I believe Allen is going to present information tonight to convince Frank otherwise." She patted Phil's knee in a comforting, motherly way and sat back as Frank re-entered the room.

"Whoa Babe. Are you sure you should be drinking that now that you're on the other?" Phil scolded as he noticed the bottle of Heineken in his lover's hand. "It'll weaken what's left of the serum in your bloodstream."

"It's not like I'm going toe to toe with anyone tonight." Frank scoffed as he sat in the chair to Phil's left. Phil sighed as he ran his hand through his hair and gave Amy a meaningful glance. She nodded and smiled to herself. Frank was going to have to learn this lesson on his own.

"You're late!" Amy suddenly hollered, although no one else was in the room other than the three of them. "Allen is at the door," she amended. "And it is now twenty minutes after nine. He promised to be here at _a_ _quarter after_." She raised her voice again for the last part as Biff crossed the foyer followed closely by Chet, Biff's cousin Buddy Hooper, and Stanley Woods.

The moment Stanley walked through the door all hell broke loose.


	9. The Beginning of a Bad Joke

Chapter 9: The Beginning of a Bad Joke

Both werewolf and vampire caught each other's scent and went on the defensive. Stanley crouched and a guttural snarl escaped him. Amy sought higher ground, atop an antique glass-front bookcase, knocking over several framed photos in the process. She gave a cat-like hiss and bore her fangs.

"Whoa, whoa! It's okay Stan, she's a friendly. She's the _good_ kind." Buddy could not stop his eyes from rolling from his own words, he was thankful his back was to Amy.

"Amy! No, no! That's a Stickley! Please! Oh my G-d your high heels!" Phil moaned.

"Take a breath, breathe deep. He's not the Were from last night." Biff encouraged as he and Frank approached.

"I'm sure Biff has a good reason for bringing in a werewolf." Frank assured.

"You do have a good reason, right?" Chet asked as he edged up behind Biff.

"Yes!"

"Allen, you are right, he is not the Were from last night, nor two weeks ago. Then what is his purpose here?"

"You didn't say there was going to be a bloodsucker here tonight!" Stanley growled, straightening from his crouch and looking beyond pissed. His wary eyes never let Amy out of his sight.

"Okay, if everyone would calm the hell down, and get off the furniture," Biff said as he gave Amy a significant look. "I'll explain. Everyone meet Stanley Woods. He's the local den leader and he's identified the hair we found last night. Stanley, I'd like for you to meet Amy Johnson, a four hundred year old vampire who plays for our team."

"Do you really expect me to believe…?"

"Papa let her live on the field of battle." Stanley whipped his head around to the athletic slayer in disbelief, then to his cousin.

"Is this true Bud?" The former Navy Seal could only nod. If Old Man Hooper had a reason for letting a vampire live, then it had to be a damn good one, and that was good enough for Stanley.

Biff continued with the introductions and Frank gave a brief (and certainly censored) explanation why he and Phil were associating with vampires in the first place. Thankfully Amy finally descended from her perch (Phil cringed inwardly, the scratches from her pumps were going to be a pain in the ass to cover) and returned to her seat on the sofa. Stanley sat down in a seat as far away from Amy as he could find.

"Okay, so here's the thing," Biff began, "That Were Stan I.D.'d is an asshole called "The Nose", and he's dangerous."

"Very dangerous." Stanley added grimly.

"Yes, very dangerous. We can't know for sure, but it just seems too much of a coincidence with the Nose being in the same area as Frank and Phil for him not to be tailing them. I mean, he managed to push past the area of protection that Brittany…"

"Bridget." Amy corrected.

"That _Bridget_ spelled on the area."

"You've got a witch mixed up in all of this too?" cried Stanley. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face, this was turning into the beginning of a very bad joke. A werewolf, vampire and a witch walk into a bar…

"Yeah… But moving on… Frank's upcoming seminar is the perfect opportunity to throw this guy off. I'll go with Frank as his plus one, and I suppose Amy will go along for the fun too, in her own special way." At that Amy smirked.

"But then the question is who will look after Phil." Biff continued.

"I think I'll be fine, especially with Zeke here at night."

"This guy doesn't just hunt at night. He's been known to kill in broad daylight." Stanley spoke up.

"And I believe he now knows where you guys live. So here's what I suggest: There's too much history with the Nose and Stanley's pack for him to try to cross into their lands again. While Frank's out of town Phil can stay out at the old farm with Buddy. We'll make the pack aware of Ezekiel's presence and purpose…"

"So long as the kid sticks to the farm's property line!" Stan growled.

"And Buddy will be there too. Phil can drive Papa's old diesel truck to work everyday, that'll help throw off his scent too."

"Until then Ezekiel and I and a few of my associates will put up extra wards around the house and keep watch at night." Amy added.

"You know, maybe the seminar is a bad idea after all. You all are going to an awful lot of trouble to protect me and Phil. I appreciate it, but you shouldn't have to interrupt a week of your lives just so I can go to New Orleans." Frank spoke up.

"Frank, when we rescued you back in January, we worked and planned for two weeks, with no assurance of what we would find when we got in there, or what the outcome would be." Phil told him.

"But there's more at stake here than your seminar or Phil's hide. That Were is a cold blooded killer, and if he's trying to stalk you, there's no telling what else he's doing while he's in the area. We've got to discourage him, let him think neither of you are to be found. Maybe he'll give up and go away. Or maybe my pack will catch him and finish him off."

"This plan is going to serve more than one purpose Frank." Biff rationalized.

"Then maybe you need to stay here and keep a look out as well. I took some of the vampire blood last night… I've felt fine all day. I've had more strength and energy, my leg hasn't hurt…" Biff looked at the bottle of beer on the coffee table. Oh great.

"How many of those have you had tonight?" Biff asked Frank, he turned to Phil with a raised eyebrow. Phil shook his head.

"I tried to warn him."

"That's my second. Why?"

"What time did you take the serum last night?"

"About eleven, I guess, sometime after you and Amy left." Frank was starting to lose his patience. Maybe it was because this long day was starting to catch up to him. He had noticed after the close call between Amy and Stanley that he felt the like the wind had gone out of his sails. He had shaken it off then, but he was getting increasingly tired and for the first time all day he was becoming aware of the familiar ache in his bad leg.

"Frank, you're about to find out the hard way why you can't drink alcohol when you take vampire blood."

"Okay, look I hate to interrupt the after-school special about the evils of alcohol, but I've got a family to get back to. Biff and Bud, you guys call me or come by the vineyard and let me know when we need to start stepping it up around the farm."

"We'll do that Stanley, thanks for coming over." Everyone except Amy shook the werewolf's hand and bid him good-bye. Phil noticed a tense look coming over Frank's face as he sat back down in the chair he'd been occupying.

"Phillip dear, may I have a bottle of mineral water?" asked Amy as her nose twitched.

"No problem Amy. Can I offer you all some soda?" When Phil returned with the requested sodas for his remaining guests, Amy excused herself to the hall bathroom with her mineral water, most likely to purge her nasal cavity of the werewolf's lingering odor.

"Well that went over like a lead balloon." Chet muttered as he dug into the chips and salsa.

"It could have been worse." Buddy reasoned as he did the same.

"And my bookcase..." Phil groaned, "Do you know how hard it is to find one of those in that condition for the price I paid?"

"Count your blessings that Stan didn't furplode and go all werewolf up in here. You'd have more than scratches on a bookcase to bitch about." Buddy said.

"Frank, don't forget to amend your rooming arrangements from a king to two doubles. I like ya, but I ain't sleepin' with another guy." Biff laughed, trying to get the meeting back on track.

"I have ordered the train tickets for the trip to New Orleans. You and Allen will board at Penn Station, I will go ahead the night before and meet you in…" Amy's face was bright when she came back into the den. She double-checked her smart phone for the Amtrak schedule, "Lynchburg."

"Why can't we just fly?" Frank asked tightly as he rubbed his aching leg with the heel of his hand, trying to resolve his ever growing discomfort. Finally he rested his foot on the coffee table.

"I hate to say it, but airport security is way too tight for me to carry some of my "supplies". Train travel, not so much." Biff admitted.

"So Amy, how are you going to fare during the daylight hours of the trip?" Frank wondered.

"Sleeping car." She actually looked delighted, but then her countenance returned to aloof just as quickly. "I will have to trust you and Allen to keep my compartment dark and the do not disturb sign up for me until dark." Biff looked over her shoulder at the schedule.

"We'll get into New Orleans about an hour before dark. How are you going to handle that?"

"I have prearranged a heavily overcast sky for the night of our arrival and the morning of our departure. Remember, I know people."

"Buddy, Sherman doesn't mind you staying with me at the old home place for a week?" Phil asked Biff's cousin even as he kept an eye on Frank who was now leaning back his chair, brow furrowed in pain.

"Nah, according to his schedule, that'll be his week to camp out at the firehouse anyway. And I've still got a few weeks before school starts, so we're good."

"Ha! My Navy Seal cousin, the elementary school P.E. teacher." Biff chuckled.

"Do not mock your cousin, Allen. Teaching is a noble profession. And I do not understand why men who teach are considered weak or less of a man. When public schools first came to be in this country, they were exclusively run by men. At least until after the Revolutionary War when the notion of Republication motherhood came about."

"I'm sorry Amy, I just have a hard time imagining big ole Buddy Hooper coaching tiny kindergarteners in the fine art of basketball."

"Don't take him seriously Amy. Bustin' chops is a Hooper family trait. If you can't take a teasin' then you're adopted." Buddy explained, laughing good naturedly.

"Excuse me." Frank rasped as he shakily got up from his chair and limped to the bedroom.

"It wasn't something I said? Was it?" Buddy asked Phil after the bedroom door slammed shut.

"G-d I hope not, Drama Queen Frank is getting old quick." Biff grumped.

"He's in pain." Amy said quietly. "His heart rate is significantly elevated."

"The beers diluted the vampire blood that was wearing out. And he overworked those damaged muscles. I need to go check on him…"

"I will." Chet volunteered. "You guys go on and hammer out your plans. I'll catch the highlights from Biff on the ride home."

Chet ran out to Biff's truck and retrieved his medical kit, when he re-entered the home he tapped lightly on the bedroom door. Hearing no answer Chet walked into the darkened room. He noticed Frank was lying on the bed, curled into the fetal position clutching his pillow with white knuckles.

"Frank?"

"G-d it hurts! I was so stupid for pushing myself today. Damn weak leg, weak muscles, weak everything…"

"Ok pal, don't be so hard on yourself…" Chet turned on the light from the bathroom to get a better look at Frank. The brunette was pail and a cold sweat covered his face.

"By the time I got to the bed…Gah!... I was in too much pain… to look for Phil's supply."

"Where does he keep it?" Frank pointed a trembling hand to Phil's bedside table.

"Bottom drawer, big shoebox." Chet went around to the other side of the bed and pulled a vial from the box. He came back around to Frank and set the vial on the side of the bed. Frank tried to pick it up but the nurse stopped him.

"Uh uh, no let me fix you up first." Chet pulled a black case out of his bag and unzipped it. Inside there was a sealed syringe and a small bottle. The red haired man proceeded to withdraw the medicine into the syringe.

"Do you…always carry narcotics with you?" Frank asked. Chet shook his head.

"This is eight hundred milligram ibuprofen. It's an anti-inflammatory and will take the edge off your pain." He set the measured muscle relaxer aside and got out an alcohol swab and a plaster. Chet unceremoniously pulled Frank's pants down on his hip and disinfected the area.

"Hey!"

"Shut up." With swift, experienced hands, Chet plunged the needle into the muscle and slapped the plaster on Frank's stinging skin. "Done!" Chet said proudly even as Frank hissed and winced from the injection.

Chet pulled the safety cover over the spent needle and tossed it into the bathroom wastebasket.

"Now," he began, "about the vampire blood. Biff's cousin gave me a little schooling on patching folks up with this stuff. I wish you or Phil had called me if you were planning on starting it, considering your situation."

"Don't be sore at Phil, he was only trying to help."

"Okay, well here's what I want you to do." Chet took a cellophane-sealed medicine dropper from his kit. "We need to build you up slowly. For the next three days, a quarter teaspoon. Then a half teaspoon for three days, and so on, until you're up to a whole vial. That ought to have you on a whole vial a few days before you take off for New Orleans. And you can still go to PT and not be "Superman" strong. Got it?"

"Got it." Frank said drowsily as the pain began to ebb and his tensed up muscles relaxed.

"I need to explain this to Phil too, don't I?" Frank nodded mutely, his eyes drooping.

Chet shook his head again and began to put all of his supplies away. He covered Frank with a throw that was folded on the end of the bed.

"I really need to get paid for this shit." He muttered as he left the room.

….

The meeting in the Cohen-Hardy home had adjourned for the night. Buddy took off in his SUV and Chet climbed up in Biff's Truck. The front door had just clicked shut behind Biff when he heard Amy walk, at a normal human pace, up to him.

"Allen, I would like to commend you."

"For what?" Biff was surprised to hear something _nice_ from Amy directed his way.

"Your plan for protecting Phillip and Frank, for drawing the Nose away from them, it is a good plan. I can tell you put a lot of thought into it."

"Well, thank you Amy. I…"

"And I would also like to thank you for helping me see reason when that werewolf had taken me by surprise."

"Again, you're…"

"Although, if you had just called and informed me that you were bringing a Were into their home…"

"Ah, yes, there's always a "_but"_, isn't there?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You just can't say anything nice without there being some barb attached to it?"

"Why can you not take accept a "Thank You" when you get one?"

"I can! All day long! But when they come from you, there's always some sort of kick in the ass to go with it!"

"You insufferable…!" Before the argument could escalate any further Chet blew the horn once on the steering wheel.

"Biff! Let's go! I've been on my feet all fucking day and I'm tired!" The redheaded nurse called through the window. Biff huffed out an exasperated breath and gave Amy a sharp look.

"You're welcome." He spat and turned to the truck.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Amy replied silkily. Biff turn to scowl at her but she was already gone.

…

Author's Note:

I'd like to express my appreciation to all of my readers. Whether you post a review or not, when I look at my stats and see the numbers climbing, it give me hope that there are people out there who are enjoying this story.

To my UK friend, I look forward to your reviews!

I welcome reviews, even if they're anonymous. Just remember the golden rule, okay?

Even as I continue creating chapters for MoonRiver, I'm already making plans and getting ideas for the next story to make a trilogy out of all this.

I've made various fan art for a number of years, but after experiencing an extended creative block, I thought I'd try my hand at fan fiction.

Thanks to you all for making my foray into writing such a pleasure.


	10. Bell, Book and Candle

Chapter 10: Bell, Book and Candle

Sunday morning passed by uneventfully, as far as having to deal with vampires or werewolves went. Frank woke up to very little pain and took the vampire blood as Chet prescribed. Phil tapped out a few emails and the rest of their morning was spent lazing around out in the back yard hammock under the pergola.

Lunchtime was more eventful. Frank and Phil were invited to Fenton and Laura's for lunch. When they arrived, Aunt Gertrude and Fenton were inserting the leaf in the dining room table.

"It's not often we have eight for Sunday lunch. We haven't had to break this thing out since Christmas!" Aunt Gertrude mentioned as Frank set his cane to the side and helped his aunt set the table.

"Leave room for Andrea's dish. She's bringing deviled eggs." said Laura as she placed a heaping bowl of macaroni salad on the table.

"Mama Hardy, you should have told us you were having so many for lunch, I could have made or brought some thing too." Phil said as he helped bring in a few more dishes from the kitchen.

"Nonsense! We invited you, you're our guest." Laura smiled as she continued to busy herself in the kitchen.

"Enjoy it while you can Phil. When you and Frank walk down that aisle your days of being treated like company are over. Laura'll put you to work." Fenton winked at his future son-in-law.

"So what is the occasion anyway? Just a random mid-August get together?" Frank asked.

"Joe called yesterday morning and said he had an important announcement to make. He wanted all of the family gathered. So I suggested getting together for lunch today." Oh right! Apparently Joe had only called Frank Friday night. It was a good thing he'd kept his mouth shut and not mentioned it to anyone but Phil. Frank and Phil glanced at each other knowingly and went along acting as blissfully uninformed as everyone else.

The sound of a car door slamming shut alerted everyone that Joe, Vanessa and Andrea had finally arrived. Andrea was her usual endearing self as she kissed everyone on the cheek and headed to the kitchen to uncover her eggs. Vanessa looked tired, like someone who was just getting over the flu. There were dark circles under her eyes and her summer-tanned skin was looking a bit pale. Joe was beaming from ear to ear. Frank caught Joe's eye and the younger Hardy grinned sheepishly. The little showboater, Joe had always enjoyed being the center of attention. It was going to be very interesting to see the baby of the family share the spotlight with a baby of his own.

"How's it going big brother?" Joe greeted Frank with a brotherly bear hug.

"Going good." Frank admitted. He imagined Joe had enough on his mind with the baby and taking care of Vanessa. There was no need to worry him with the supernatural goings on.

"Looking forward to _N'awlins_?" The blonde drawled in his worst southern accent. Frank winced at the awful attempt at southern and nodded.

"How about you Phil? I hear _N'awlins_ in a pretty romantic city." Joe winked and nudged the raven haired boy.

"Actually, I can't go. I don't have enough vacation time saved up from where I was out for Frank's recovery. But Biff's going with him." Joe looked surprised at Phil's answer.

"Biff? That doesn't sound like his kind of thing." Frank leaned forward and whispered in Joe's ear.

"Vampire hunter on holiday. He's going to let his hair down and hit the bars in the French Quarter." Joe nodded in understanding. Biff had been working very hard between his day job at the gym, his night "job" as a slayer, and trying to make things work out with his grandfather's farm. The guy did need a break.

"Yeah, maybe it'll be good for him." Joe agreed. He picked up Frank's cane and smiled. "And if he gets out of line you can just use this to reel him in." The three of them had a good laugh at Frank's expense. Frank didn't really mind, he knew his days of using that damn cane were numbered.

Fenton called everyone to the table to enjoy the summery feast before them. Just as everyone was finishing the main course, and before Laura and Aunt Gertrude had a chance to pick up dishes and make ready for dessert, Joe stood from his chair and tapped his glass.

"Now that I've got everyone's attention, I asked you all here today because I said I have an important announcement. Well, it's more like _we_ have an important announcement." Joe rested a hand on Vanessa's shoulder. Laura's hands covered her mouth as she gasped, her eyes wide in realization.

"Vanessa's pregnant!" A chorus of feminine squeals went up as the women of the family launched from their seats to hug and congratulate Vanessa and Joe. Fenton gave his youngest son a hearty handshake and a hug as a stubborn tear could be seen leaking from his eye.

"Congratulations Vanessa and Joe!" Frank raised his glass for his brother, and everyone joined in for a toast.

"To Vanessa, Joe and the baby!" They all rang out.

…..

"Whatcha looking at love?" Frank asked later that afternoon as he read over his fiancée's shoulder. Phil leaned back on the sofa and kissed Frank's cheek.

"Looking at adoption services, the hoops you have to jump through, that kind of stuff." Phil said as Frank came around the sofa and settled in beside him.

"Baby fever?"

"Mmm, maybe..."

"Kinda getting the cart before the horse aren't you?" Frank asked as he glanced at the comments on the message board Phil was reading.

"You can be on the waiting list for years. And since we're a gay couple, we'll be under even more scrutiny from the powers that be. It's not like Joe and Van. Have sex and _boom!_ There's a baby in nine months." Frank rested his head on Phil's shoulder.

"What about surrogacy?" he asked.

"I dunno Frank. I think about those stories my Elter Zaide told me about after the war, all those orphans. There are plenty of children out there who need a good home Babe."

"Yeah, you've got a point." Frank sighed.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic about this idea."

"Don't get me wrong. I want children, I really do. But I also want all this vampire and werewolf shit out of our lives before then. I want you and me to be safe. And I want our children to be safe. No looking over our shoulders wondering of some undead asshole would harm our kids."

"Now you've got a point." Phil shut the laptop and kissed the brunette soundly on the lips.

"When'd you get so smart?" he asked. Frank shrugged innocently, batting his large brown eyes at his lover.

"Not the puppy eyes! Anything but the puppy eyes!" Phil laughed as he launched himself at Frank, forcing the brunette to lie back against the sofa cushions and settle in for a long make-out session.

…..

Monday morning opened a new box of crazy for Phil and Frank. It began with the doorbell ringing bright and early at six thirty. Phil was hastily trying to tuck in his shirt and zip his pants as he made his way to the front door. He looked out of the peephole to see two women standing at the door, both of them looked vaguely familiar, but this early in the morning, he couldn't place them to save his life. Phil opened the door and before he could say anything (like, "Do you know what time it is?") the younger of the two women bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Good Morning Mr. Cohen! I don't know if you remember me. I'm Bridget Hayes, your realtor from Wicker Trail Realty. This is my mother, Riona Magee. You know her from Enchanted Antiques, where you purchased the bookcase…"

"Oh, yes I thought you looked familiar." Phil said to the women.

Small world, his "realtor" and the owner of his favorite antiques and art store were related. Bridget was the witch who had placed the protective enchantment on the deed to their home and the house itself. She looked the same as he last saw her back in January, with her freckles and her straight red hair. Bridget's mother was a slightly shorter woman, but more robust. Riona's lighter red hair was in an elaborate wavy style that Phil had seen other upper-middle-aged women wear. Hairspray was probably her best friend. Phil noticed another woman in the distance, with her hand on her hips, examining his front yard. She looked to be taller than Bridget, with wavy strawberry blonde hair and was well built. Well built, as in Phil hoped to G-d he'd never cross her, nor fight her in a dark alley.

"That's my older sister, Keeva. She's got the green thumb in the family. Amy asked us to come by and set up some wards. You know, do our _thing_?"

"And Keeva is going to do what exactly?"

"Oh she's going to plant some flowers and whatnot that'll repel anyone or anything with evil intent."

"Take a breath, Bridget!" The older woman squawked.

Phil had liked Mrs. Magee instantly when he had first entered her antique store. She reminded him of one of his aunts, bold, brassy and down-to-earth. In her hand she held what must have been a cane, from the shape of it anyway, it was hard to tell with the brown paper it was wrapped in.

"Is your boyfriend in? Amy asked me if I could find something he could use to protect himself. This might do the trick." Riona asked as she held up the package.

"Yes, he is. Why don't you all come in and I'll get him." Bridget waved for her sister to follow, but the older girl waved her off.

"I'm still working this out." She said, so Phil closed the door and called for Frank.

"What's up?" Frank asked, and was surprised to see two strange women seated in their den.

"Frank, this is Bridget Hayes, our "realtor"," He actually used air quotes. "and her mother, Riona Magee. She helped me find the bookcase."

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you ladies." Frank greeted. He reached over to shake their hands. Bridget took his hand and held it for a little longer than what one would deem necessary for a handshake.

"Momma, he's got an interesting aura! Wouldn't you agree?" the girl asked her mother as her eyes widened.

"Pay her no mind young man. She's always been the more chatty one of the bunch." Riona said as she too shook Frank's hand. She gave the brunette a quizzical look, then turned to her daughter and nodded. Frank and Phil thought the exchange was strange to say the least, but Riona quickly began unwrapping the package she had placed on the coffee table.

Phil had guessed correctly, although he did not know how practical something like this would work out for Frank. But it was a thing of beauty. The staff was a dark, high-finish walnut, and the crook was a silvery eagle's head.

"I know you're probably fortifyin' yourself with that vampire blood, but this will give you a bit of an edge if you do have a confrontation. It would be a good idea to carry it with you whether you're hobblin' or not."

"How is that going to …?" Before Phil could even finish, Riona had twisted the eagle's head and unsheathed a very sharp, very deadly looking sword.

"Its silver plated, and enchanted so the plate will not wear off. It's been blessed too, at St. Columba's in County Meath. Here, give it a go." Riona sheathed the sword and handed the cane to Frank. As odd as the eagle's head looked, it actually molded to his hand quite well. He bore his weight on it and walked around the room.

"Well, it feels good." He commented.

"Now unsheathe it and give the blade a wave." Frank did so, the sword felt light in his hand, but it had a good balance.

"Very nice." Mrs. Magee said. She reached into her canvas tote and pulled out a small paper bag.

"I didn't forget you Mr. Cohen. I've got something to take care of that bookcase Miss Amy fouled up." Phil looked inside the bag and withdrew…

"A brown crayon." he deadpanned.

"It'll cover the marks on the wood! Rub it in, smooth it out, and it's like it never happened." She smiled.

"Um, thank you." Phil replied. The front door opened and Keeva stuck her head in.

"I'm gonna run down to the nursery, I think I know what this place needs." The strawberry blonde popped her gum as she spoke.

"Fine love, we'll be here when you get back!" Riona waved to her daughter.

"You will? I mean, we were getting ready to leave for work…" Phil tried to explain.

"I understood from Miss Amy that Frank had a flexible schedule. When you work with your daddy you don't necessarily have to punch a time clock." Frank blushed at Riona's words. She did have a point.

"It's okay Phil, I'll call Dad and Joe and let them know I'll be in late. You go ahead and finish getting ready for work." Frank sighed and took his usual seat next to the sofa.

"This is so exciting! I rarely get to add extra spells on a home!" Bridget squealed.

"We wouldn't have to do this if that furry devil hadn't pushed past our wards." Riona grumbled as she dug into her canvas bag, pulling out candles of various colors, chalk, feathers, a large seashell, a bundle of weeds…

"What is that?" Frank asked.

"Sage. I'm going to smudge your house while Momma sets things up for the spell." The younger witch chirped brightly.

"Smudge?"

"Oh, Lordy! Don't make her explain, just watch and learn!" Riona huffed impatiently as she arranged the candles on the floor of the foyer and began to draw an intricate eight-pointed star pattern on the hardwood floor.

Phil came through the room with keys in hand ready to leave for work. His eyes widened when he saw the older woman on all fours marking the floor. Without looking up Riona answered the question she intuitively knew was coming next.

"This won't harm the finish! You won't even have to clean it up, it'll burn off by the end of the spell."

"Burn?" Phil gasped. Riona stood and patted his arm reassuringly.

"Worry not lad. Go kiss your darlin' goodbye before you're late for work." She winked and went back to her drawing.

Phil found Frank in the den, watching Bridget light the sage and blow it out again. She placed the smoking bundle in the large seashell and used the feathers to fan the curling smoke into the room.

"This will clear the house of any negative energy that can enable evil spirits or beings to enter your home." she whispered.

"Why is she whispering?" Phil asked Frank in a low voice.

"Maybe she doesn't want the evil spirits to know she's coming?" Frank guessed. Phil chuckled and kissed his _darlin_' goodbye.

"Call you at lunch." he said and left, praying that the Lord above would not strike him down for allowing witches to cast spells in their house.

…..

Frank sat on the sofa patiently watching Bridget and Riona "do their thing". Bridget had finally finished smudging every room, closet and pantry in the house. Frank could appreciate the smell of sage in food, but this was a bit much. His eyes were beginning to sting a little and the young witch looked up as he coughed quietly.

"Sorry Mr. Hardy…"

"Frank."

"Sorry Frank. The smoke will dissipate shortly. You should have seen the first house I ever cleaned of evil spirits! It was an old Victorian down in Cape May. I had to go through two bundles of sage before I was sure the house was clear…"

"Frank dear?" Mrs. Magee interrupted, "would you mind terribly if I get a hair from your head? I need it for the spell."

"Don't you need one from Phil too?" Not that Frank had any idea why she would need it, but since there were two of them living under this roof…

"Got it covered." The older woman said proudly, "Pinched it from him and he didn't feel a thing." Frank sighed and lowered his head to allow Riona access to his chestnut strands.

"Tanks love." He noticed her accent was getting a bit heavier the more she got involved with the spell-work.

"Are ye ready, Mam?" Bridget's New England accent had slipped into an Irish brogue as well.

"Aye, Lamb." Riona replied as she removed her shoes and walked barefoot back into the foyer. Bridget followed suit. Frank followed the women and leaned against the archway that led into the foyer.

"Is it okay if I watch?" Frank asked.

"Aye, I'd ask ye to participate if ye were more steady on yer feet." The matron answered. "But fer now, why don ye take a seat? This may take a bit." But Frank shrugged and looked on as Riona lit the first candle.

Both of the witches closed their eyes and in unison began to chant the words to the spell. Frank couldn't quite follow. He could carry on a conversation in Spanish, French, was familiar with a little Latin, and could pick up on a few words of German. But these words did not sound like anything he'd ever heard before.

Bridget lit the next candle and the chanting continued. Riona lit a third, taller, pillar candle and placed the jet black hair into the flame. The strand curled in on itself and the smell of burnt hair filled Frank's nose. Bridget then put Frank's own hair in the flame. The strand sparked and sizzled, and the flame rose a few inches higher. Frank laughed to himself, as much product as Phil used on his hair to tame those curls, he would have thought his hair would have hissed and spit like that when it hit the fire. Frank caught the witches giving him a curious look.

"Sorry." He whispered. They stared at him a moment longer and then continued with the chant.

"_Spirit Mother, surround this home with light and love. Let none who wish them harm penetrate this sphere of light. Protect those who love from harm, so mote it be_…" Finally, some English, thought Frank.

"_I invoke thee to this threshold bound, shall be the powers to protect, the powers to warn. Let the evil outside mourn! So mote it be…_" Frank could feel his eyelids growing heavy as the temperature in the climate-controlled house seemed to rise. Not uncomfortably so, but enough that Frank could not shake the drowsy feeling that came with it.

"_May greeted friends be welcome here, people unknown should have fear. Those who without welcome cross this door shall writhe in pain forevermore_!" Riona lit the last candle, the circle of light was complete. Bridget placed a bay leaf and an iron nail over the flame of the tallest candle.

"No Lass! Not the nail!" Riona hollered, but it was too late. The flame burst and sparked, a purplish smoke arose from above the candle.

"Ah No! Sorry Mam! I forgot!" Bridget called back as she jerked the nail out of the flame, wincing as the hot metal burnt her fingers. Riona turned to Frank and rushed to him, arms stretched out to push him out of the foyer. Frank was too drowsy to react, but it didn't matter. His eyes were closed and darkness drew in before he ever hit the floor.

….

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the delay. There was a lot going on this week with the kids' end of the year assemblies and getting out of school for the summer. Maybe things will calm down for a bit. Emphasis on maybe…

I researched various spell sites from the internet to mesh the wording Bridget and Riona used.


	11. Only a Dream

Chapter 11: Only a Dream

_"Daddy, wake uh-up." sang a small voice. Frank could feel a warm breath on his face and a little nose brushed his own._

_"No, too early." Frank protested, eyes still closed, but smiled as he said it. He pulled the covers up closer around his shoulders. He heard small feet pad down to the end of the bed and felt the slight bounce of the small body climbing up on all fours between Frank and Phil._

_"Tatty, wake up." the child whispered into his husband's ear. Phil made a muffled, grumbling sound and rolled from his back to his side, facing the small girl._

_"It's still dark baby doll."_

_"I can't sleep." Frank rolled over to face the middle of the bed, Allison was sitting on her knees looking between her two fathers._

_"Allison, want to snuggle between me and Tatty?" She nodded and got under the covers. She backed up against Frank's chest and her Daddy draped a protective arm around her. Her Tatty let her wrap her tiny hand around his fingers. Phil used the pad of his thumb to stroke the baby-soft skin of the back of her hand._

_"Love you Tatty." The tiny girl said sleepily, yawing mid-sentence._

_"Love you too baby doll."_

_"Love you Daddy."_

_"Love you too Allison."_

"Come 'ere! Help meh move 'im."

"He didn't hit his head too hard did he?"

"Don tink so. Ach! E's too heavy. Go get yer sister!"

_"Why do he smile when he sleepin'?" Allison asked as she looked on at her newborn brother sleeping in Frank's arms._

_"He's dreaming. Must be a nice dream, huh?"_

_"Tatty says its gas." The little girl giggled and pinched her nose._

_"Allison? C'mon baby doll, got your bathwater ready." Phil called from the bathroom._

_"Do you want to help me put David to bed?" asked Frank as he stood from the nursery's glider-rocker._

_"Yes!" The girl whispered. Frank held Allison's hand with his free hand as they crossed the room to the crib. She climbed up on the rail as Frank lowered the sleeping infant into the bed._

_"Night night baby." Allison waved to her brother and then flit out of the room._

_"Sweet dreams David." Frank whispered, and leaned in to kiss his son's soft round head._

"Oh my G-d Bridge! What did you do this time?"

"I forgot! I forgot not to use the iron nail! I should have gone with the galvanized. Especially since…"

"Shhh… Keep yer voices don!"

Frank could hear the witches bustling about the room.

"Did you at least complete the spell for G-d's sake?"

"Aye, we were on the last bit when things went to shite."

"So it's done. They're good?"

"Oh, I'd like to see the furry bastard try an' get past the front gate!" Riona cleared her throat and addressed her younger daughter. "Bridget, you go on with Keeva and start helping in the front yard. I'll watch over the lad til he wakes, make sure he's steady."

Frank could hear two sets of feet pad out of the front of the house. He cracked an eye open to see the reddened face of Mrs. Magee hovering over him.

"Oh good! You're alright. I have to say you gave us quite a fright falling out like that!" the woman said cheerfully.

"What the heck happened? And what did Bridget mean about using the wrong nail in the spell?"

Riona hesitated, shaking her head dismissively. But she could see the determined look on the young man's face. This was a fellow who would not stand for flimsy excuses.

"First let me ask you, who's Allison and David? Do they live here?"

"Who?"

"Allison and David. You called out their names when you were passed out." Riona was concerned, if there were other people in the household she was going to have to do the spell over to include them.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Mrs. Magee. I don't know an Allison or a David."

"You're sure?" Riona asked. Frank thought back as far as he could. He'd known an Allison in grade school, a David in high school, but other than that, he could come up with nothing.

"Positive. Your turn, what was Bridget going on about?"

"There was something about your aura that indicated that you're sensitive to iron. Bridget and I have done the protection spell for so long that we forgot to switch out the traditional iron nail for a galvanized one."

"Sensitive to iron?" the skeptical look Frank shot her warranted further explanation. Riona rifled through her tote bag and extracted an iron and a galvanized nail. Frank sat up from his reclined position on the sofa.

"Hold out your weaker hand." So Frank held out his left hand and the iron nail was placed in it. "Now hold up your dominate hand and try to resist me." Riona pushed against Frank's right hand, and the brunette strained to keep the older woman from budging it. Satisfied, Riona removed the iron nail and placed the shining galvanized one in his hand. This time, even with the same amount of pressure, Frank had no problem at all holding his hand out against Riona's.

"See? It just happens sometimes. Right up there with being left handed, or having one brown eyebrow and one blonde one." The witch dropped the nails back into her bag and stood up quickly.

"Okay…" Frank rubbed the back of his head, feeling the slight knot where his head obviously made contact with the floor.

"Would you like an ice pack for your head lad?"

"No thank you. I'm going to call into the office and tell Dad that I'm running late."

"Alrighty, well I'll be heading on. Keeva and Bridget have the truck to get home on." Frank stood and held out his hand.

"Thank you, Mrs. Magee for all your help. If there's anything we can do…"

"Think not of it, Mr. Hardy. You just keep getting healed up from that gimpy leg you so can get back out there and keep us all safe." She shook his hand and winked again. Frank followed her out to the front porch.

Keeva was pressing dirt down around the base of a sapling in the right corner of the yard. Bridget was running a tiller along the picket fence on one side of the front gate, the beginnings of a flower bed taking shape. Keeva stood and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her work gloves. She walked over to the porch where Frank was standing.

"We've got Hawthorne going in the corners, Elder bushes going in the flower bed, and we'll do the same in the back. How attached are you to those hydrangeas?"

"Phil likes them I."

"Crap. Alright, I'll just work around them." Keeva huffed and walked to the back of her truck. She picked up another sapling like it weighed nothing and began cutting off the burlap that covered the root bundle.

"Strong girl." Frank commented to Mrs. Magee. The matron smiled proudly.

"Takes after her father that way, G-d rest his soul."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Frank politely sympathized. Riona smiled impishly, her eyes looking somewhere in the past.

"I'm not."

…

Joe gave a low whistle when he saw the cane Frank was using when his older brother finally came to the office later that morning.

"New hardware?" he asked. Frank looked to see if their father was in his office. Finding it vacant he turned to his younger brother.

"A gift from Amy."

"Nice gift." Joe commented as he followed Frank into his office.

"How's Van this morning?"

"She was throwing up her toenails at five thirty this morning, but after she took that medicine the doctor prescribed it stopped. Of course, it knocked her out. So she was sleeping when I left for work. I'll call her in a little while to see if she's feeling better." Joe sat down in Frank's guest chair.

"So, has it sunk in yet, _Daddy_?" Frank teased his little brother.

"It just… blows my mind Frank. That she and I, together… there's going to be a walking, talking…"

"And pooping."

"Ha, yeah. And a "pooping" piece of ourselves." Joe smiled.

"It's a big responsibility…"

"No kidding. Mom and Dad made it look so easy."

"And they didn't have Aunt Gertie to help out until after we started school." Frank added. "But you and Van will have more than enough help with Andrea, Mom and Aunt Gertie pitching in. Not to mention two doting uncles."

"This is going to be one spoiled kid." Joe laughed and Frank joined in heartily.

"So when are you going to break the news to the rest of the gang?"

"Dunno, whatcha doing this weekend? Maybe we'll have a cookout, us guys can do the cooking to give Van a break."

"Haven't planned ahead that far." Frank said as he pressed the power button on his computer.

"You know, not to change the subject, but I wonder why Biff hadn't mentioned he was going with you to New Orleans when we made the rounds last night."

"You went vampire hunting last night?" surprise was clear on the older Hardy's face.

"Well, yeah."

"Don't you think you ought to stick closer to home, now that you're going to have a family?" If Frank was going to bring up the subject with his brother, now was as good a time as any.

"What? Has Van said something to you?"

"No, not a word. I've been thinking about talking to you for about a month. I'd just hate to see you spread too thin. What you and Vanessa have is rare and wonderful and…

"I think I need to be out there more than ever! I mean, vampires are out there killing or recruiting. Now I hear about lone wolves that don't run with the local pack sniffing round here. What else is out there Frank? Witches? Evil leprechauns? G-d I hope it's not evil leprechauns."

"And who's going to protect Van? Surely you don't expect her to stay at home all alone, vulnerable and pregnant while you're out there hunting with Biff?" Frank knew he was pushing his brother's buttons, but sometimes he needed to do that to get through the impetuous boy's head. Joe's face was beginning to redden as his brother's probing became more intrusive.

"She can stay with Andrea on the nights I'm out with Biff. Look, I know you're worried about me big brother, but …" he defended.

"Yes I am, I'm worried about you. Van and the baby, Mom, Dad, Gertie, _Phil_! But you just got married, you're going to be a father. You need to stay safe too so you can be there for them… I mean, our job is dangerous enough at times. Just, will you think about it, please? Put yourself in Van's or Mom's shoes for a minute. Alright?"

"Alright Frank, _alright_." The younger Hardy stood and started for his office. "And if we're going to point fingers, you're late by the way."

"Brat." Frank muttered as he logged into his email.

…

_"Frank?"_

_The voice was tremulous, yet familiar. There were notes of fear and panic. Frank pushed on through a darkness so black he could not see his hands in front of his face, looking for the voice's owner._

_"Frank! Help me!"_

_"I can't see! It's too dark, keep talking!" Frank yelled out to the darkness. He felt around, trying to find a wall, a light switch, anything._

_"Frank, you're finally here. Oh thank G-d! I thought I'd never see you again." The voice was closer now, so he must be heading in the right direction. He could feel the texture of wallpaper under his finger tips, it was old and peeling. Finally Frank's hand ran into something hard and round. There was a button in the middle. He pressed the button and the room filled with light from the lone incandescent bulb. Frank turned from the wall, eyes squinting as he adjusted to the glaring light. When he turned to see who was in the room with him, Frank threw himself against the wall, wishing he could claw his way through and get the hell out._

_Eric sat there, huddled in the corner, naked. He looked like shit. Bloody, scarred, eyes black from hunger. He didn't move, except to reach out to Frank. He was loosely bound with a thin, silvery chain, but it was just enough to immobilize him._

_"Frank, please…" Eric begged in a pained, gravelly voice._

_"No, no I can't! I won't!" Frank shrank away, trying to put as much distance as he could between his former boyfriend, kidnapper, mental torturer, rapist…_

_"Please, please help me…"_

_"No! No no no! NO!"_

"Baby? Frank? Shh… calm down, it was just a bad dream. What ever it was you're safe, you're right here with me." Phil turned on the bedside light. Frank was sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting, gasping for air. The brunette clapped his hand over his mouth and gagged once, twice…

Frank raced to the bathroom and emptied his stomach of his dinner. Once he had calmed down, he could hear Phil's bare feet slapping on the bathroom floor. A cabinet open, water from the sink ran, then a cold damp wash cloth was presented to him in his blurry field of vision.

"Thanks." Frank whispered and wiped his face off.

"You haven't had a night terror that bad in months."

"The weird thing is this dream was different. I wasn't reliving the Hersher Estate. I was somewhere else, and Er…Eric was in trouble. He was calling out to me, for me to help him. But I was so scared, and at the same time, I refused to. I was mad, angry for what he'd done to me."

"You have every right to be."

"It just seemed so wrong."

"Would you like some water Babe?" At three thirty in the morning Phil just did not have the mental capacity to dig into a deep conversation about Eric Langhorne. His main concern was Frank's immediate physical wellbeing and getting back to bed.

"I'll get it, you go on back to bed." Frank said as he stood on wobbly legs.

"Are you sure? I don't mind…" Phil protested weakly, but Frank shook his head as he picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste and scrubbed the bitter taste of bile out of his mouth.

"Awm shua, gah on tah beb," Frank spat and rinsed. "I'm going to sit up for a while until my stomach eases." He kissed his fiancée's cheek. Phil seemed skeptical, but relented and went back to bed.

Frank limped to the kitchen, noticing that his limp didn't seem as bad as it had earlier that day. So maybe there was some merit to Chet's more gentle vampire serum regimen. However, Chet never mentioned what kind of effects antacid would have. He thought for a moment about texting Chet, Frank was pretty sure the nurse was still working this late, but thought better of it. Knowing Chet he'd ask a dozen questions and want him to come to the ER to be checked out. Forget it. Frank grabbed a tumbler of cold water and a pack of Alka-Seltzer then headed to the backyard to take in the cool night air.

"Mornin' Frank." Frank didn't even jump this time. He looked to see the kid sitting in one of their lawn chairs under the pergola reading a book.

"You mean Good Evening, don't you?" Frank smirked as he downed his stomach remedy.

"What's got you up so early?" The teen vampire asked.

"If you've been sitting there as long as I think you have, I have a feeling you already know." Frank answered waspishly.

"You know, that's something I don't miss from before... nightmares. Vampires don't dream when they sleep. When I was a little kid, I had nightmares all the time. I'd have bad dreams about my father, about how sick he got there at the end. Then I had ones about his funeral, seeing him laying in that casket. And it's wasn't the pretty sight it is now, we didn't have embalming." Ezekiel sat at the edge of his seat. "It got worse after Mama married my stepfather. He was such a rat-bastard. He made my waking hours a living hell, and then if I had one of my night terrors and called out for Mama during the night, he'd come in there and beat the shit out of me… No, I definitely don't miss dreaming."

"In that I envy you. I close my eyes every night and pray I don't see Eric's face. It had been getting better, but tonight…"

"Closure."

"Excuse me?"

"That's what Amy would say. You need closure." Ezekiel closed the book and stood up.

"I seriously doubt that's going to happen anytime soon." said Frank sullenly. His stomach was finally calming down and the cool breeze ruffled his hair.

"The sooner it does, the sooner you can get on with your life."

"Awfully intuitive for just a hundred and sixty four years old, aren't you?"

"One hundred and sixty five in just a few more months!" The vampire reminded him proudly.

…

**Author's Note:**

I happened to look at _Some Nights_' stats the other day and was overjoyed to see people were still reading and reviewing it. I hope everyone is still enjoying _MoonRiver_. The action will pick up soon, so bear with me.


	12. Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

Chapter 12: Hold Me Like You'll Never Let Me Go

"I just know I'm forgetting something." Frank mused as he zipped up his garment bag and hung it on the closet door. It was the Sunday morning before Frank was to depart for New Orleans later that afternoon, and he was trying to finish up his packing. Frank was always one to make lists and double check after himself, Phil knew his fiancée was a just a born worrier.

"Saline. Spare set of contacts. Glasses in glass case. Meds. Vamp blood." Phil ticked off things Frank needed on a daily basis.

"I'm good to go on my toiletries. I've checked that twice…" Phil walked up behind Frank and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Then maybe you're missing this." Phil whispered in his fiancée's ear as he brought his other hand around to present Frank with a small velvet box.

"Ah. What's this?" Frank asked bemusedly. He allowed Phil to open the box for him with the raven haired boy's arms still in front of him.

"This is evening things up." he said as he revealed the silver and emerald bracelet with the same intricate scrollwork that was on the one Phil wore on his left wrist.

"You lost your bracelet months ago but I never got around to getting you another. After you proposed I put in an order to get a replacement. And I had to take the time to include a little bit of… insurance… before I could give it to you."  
"Phillip Cohen you hopeless romantic. Did you put a tracking device in my jewelry again?" Frank smirked and turned to kiss Phil's cheek. Phil pulled the bracelet out of the box and opened the clasp.

"Indeed I did, in mine too. I even developed an app so you and I can check in on each other from our smart phones. It's still in beta, but I got Biff and Amy to download it to their phones in case they lose track of you, as if that would happen." Phil explained.

"I'm going to sit in on a seminar about the legalities of using GPS tracking in private investigations, and here I am wearing a tracking device on me." But Frank smiled as he said it and turned in Phil's arms to kiss him properly. "But I know it's because you love me. Thank you Phil, it's just as beautiful as the one before."

"Look at the inscription." Frank turned over the center link and gazed at the unfamiliar words.

"_An Ghrá mór I do shaol._ _You are the love of my life_ in Scot-Gaelic. I asked your dad about your Hardy ancestry, and he said your branch of the family was Scottish. So since you paid tribute to my heritage on my bracelet, I thought I'd do the same for you." Phil watched the emotion that filled Frank's face as he admired the bracelet.

"Well you hit the nail on the head, because you are the love of my life Phillip." Frank cupped his fiancée's face in his hands and softly brushed his lips over Phil's. They were soft and so warm, Frank loved the feel of Phil's lips. Their plump fullness begged to be kissed, and the brunette relished in their softness as he nipped Phil's lower one lightly.

"Mmm… Frank, what time are Buddy and Biff coming to pick us up?"

"Twelve thirty, gives us time to fight traffic and get our bags checked. Why?"

"Then I think that gives us several hours for a little more "quality time." What do you say?" Phil smiled devilishly and squeezed Frank's firm buttocks.

"Oh G-d, I thought you'd never ask!" Phil hoisted Frank up and the older Hardy wrapped his legs around raven haired boy's narrow waist. Phil walked them over to the bed, their lips never breaking contact as they kissed. They tumbled onto the bed and Frank grabbed Phil by the collar of his shirt and brought his mouth back down to his, forcing his tongue in to explore and relish in the wet sweetness. Phil broke away a moment later, panting.

"Babe, let's slow down. We're going to be away from each other for almost a week…" Frank could almost hear Phil's thoughts.

"Let's make it last? Yeah, I agree. I want to still feel you, still feel where you've been inside me while I'm in New Orleans."

"Fuck Frank! You're going to kill me talking like that." Phil sat up and pulled his shirt off. "I wanted to wait and try something different after you got back, but I guess we can try it out now." Frank propped up on his elbows to watch as Phil leaned over to his bedside table and opened the bottom drawer. He withdrew a narrow cardboard box with flashy black and silver writing.

"Holy crap! Did you buy a sex toy?" Frank's eyes widened as Phil opened the box and presented a small, silver bullet tethered to a black and silver remote.

"If you're not up for it, we don't have to use it." Phil hedged. He had worried Frank wouldn't go for it, but as Frank stared at the toy with bright eyes, Phil teasingly put the item back in the box.

"No, um, let's give it a go." Frank put his hand on Phil's wrist. "How do you work it?"

Phil put the egg-shaped bullet in Frank's hand and flipped the switch on the remote, slowly rolling the button that controlled the intensity of the vibrations.

"Oh fuck! That's gonna feel crazy! Do you lube it first?"

"Of course. So, do you wanna try it?" Phil leaned forward and eased Frank back down to a prone position, his eyes raking hungrily over Frank's still clothed body.

"G-d yes!" Frank grabbed the hem of his polo shirt and arched his body to pull it off. Phil moaned at the sight of Frank's toned chest and abs. Phil got off the bed and removed his own pants and underwear, rejoining a now naked Frank on the bed.

Phil lied down beside his fiancée and traced the lines of his face with his fingertips. Frank instinctively closed his eyes, and relaxed into his lover's exploration of his skin, his cheek bones, the bridge of his nose, his lips, and Adam's apple. Phil nipped at Frank's jaw and worked his way along to his lips. Frank opened for him and let his strong tongue delve in to massage and stroke against his own.

Frank wrapped his arms around Phil's shoulders and pulled him so that most of his body was on top of him. Phil's hands continued to explore Frank's collarbone and chest, trailing down to tease at Frank's navel. Frank's hands were busy too, one was working Phil's hair product loose, freeing his black wavy hair. The other traced over the lines of Phil's muscled back and shoulder blades.

Phil's fingers teased at the skin of Frank's hardening cock, and his lover gasped in response.

"You've always been so sensitive." Phil whispered, and began nuzzling Frank's neck, licking and kissing down the tendon to the junction of his neck and shoulder, where he knew Frank loved to be kissed. He ran his hand down further and cupped Frank's balls, pulling gently and massaging the sensitive area behind them with his index and middle fingers. Frank spread his legs apart further to allow Phil more access. Phil continued to rub and reach back further, teasing Frank and drawing out groans and gasps.

"Yesss Phil, touch me." Frank hissed as the teasing became too much. His skin was beginning to tingle with the anticipation of what was to come. Finally Phil released him and Frank heard the snap of the lube being opened. Phil sat up to tend to the lubing of the toy and then the quiet hum of the bullet's first setting could be heard.

"This may be a little too cool, but it should warm up quick, okay Baby?" He kissed Frank before he let him reply, and pressed the quivering toy to the tight pink skin. Frank yelped and cried out at the initial intrusion. Certainly not from pain, but the odd and yet stimulating sensation that jolted through his body.

"Fu…Phil." Frank grabbed the sheets on either side of his body to anchor himself and spread his legs wider as he pushed his hips upward to grant Phil and the toy more room to work. The slick vibrating toy against his hole was easily accepted and his body greedily clenched around it until the silver bullet was swallowed up. Frank dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his entire lower body up.

"GAH! AHHH! Fuck Phil! This is….!" Frank cried out and Phil pressed his hands down on Frank's hips to regain some form of control.

"Hang on Baby, let me just…" Phil followed the bullet with a slicked finger until it was placed just right, next to Frank's prostate, and Frank's hips jerked upward violently.  
"SHIT! Oh G-d!" Frank grabbed Phil by the shoulders and pulled him down so they were chest to chest. He grabbed the loosened curls at Phil's crown and tugged with each pulse of the bullet. Phil sought Frank's mouth again and swallowed up ever grunt, groan and gasp.

"I'm gonna come!" Frank nearly screamed as he broke away from their lip lock.

"Not yet you're not." Phil lowered the setting on the bullet and Frank sighed and then whined at the loss.

A new sensation replaced it as Phil bent down to lick the bead of pre-come that had formed at Frank's tip. Phil kept one hand on Frank's hip and the other on the remote as he licked and teased, then swallowed Frank's cock down to the hilt. Frank could feel his head brush the soft tissue at the back of Phil's throat. His fiancée hummed around his cock and turned up the setting on the bullet simultaneously. Frank yelped and drew his knees up reflexively, the dual sensation of the toy and Phil blowing him sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his body and limbs. Behind his tightly shut eyes he could imagine himself on the edge of a cliff, and a sea of heat and pleasure beckoning him to dive in.

Phil could feel Frank's body tensing and he released him and turned off the toy.

"What're you…?"

"You're not coming without me." Phil was doing his damnedest not to come then and there. Every sound that Frank uttered sent his heart racing. He loved making Frank fall apart, and it was a sight that only he was privy to seeing. The rest of the world got straight-laced Mr. Logic and Reason. But this side of Frank was Phil's and Phil's alone.

He slowly withdrew the bullet and Frank hissed as it left his body. Phil slicked up his cock and took the plunge in a fluid movement. He heard Frank hiss again, but it was quickly followed by a deep, throaty groan. Frank's muscles squeezed around Phil's cock as he adjusted to the fullness.

"Phil… move baby…" he said finally. Phil hooked one of Frank's ankles over his shoulder and kissed the inside of his leg. Frank shivered at the touch and Phil rolled his hips, pulling out a little and then pushing back in. He wanted to make it last, wanted to stretch out this moment and this feeling.

"Damn Baby, you feel… fuck you feel so good. Yeah…" He drove in again, a little firmer this time. Oh, this wasn't going to last long at all, but it couldn't be helped. Frank just looked so damned sexy, and his clenching around Phil's cock was sending an electrical pulse into his pelvis and up his spine. He looked at Frank's face, whose mouth was slack from panting and moaning, his chocolate brown eyes were heavy-lidded, but they were looking straight back at Phil. Phil couldn't help but smile back as he returned Frank's gaze.

"I love you Phillip." Frank said quietly. Phil's breath caught in his throat as it tightened. He and Frank had said they loved each other hundreds of times at this point. But in this moment, with their souls bared as naked as their bodies, Phil could feel every ounce of love that Frank had put into those words.

"And I love you." He bent down and captured Frank's lips with his own. Phil felt Frank's long legs wrap around his waist and draw him closer in. The new angle was perfect for hitting that most pleasurable spot inside the brunette, and Frank felt himself free-fall from that precipice he'd been teetering from. Phil saw his fiancée's face screw up as ecstasy overcame him, and he instantly felt Frank tighten down around him, pulsating and igniting his own orgasm. His hips lost control as his rhythm faltered, and the sound of harsh breathing and skin slapping against skin filled the bedroom. With one last thrust Phil collapsed onto Frank's chest, not giving a crap about the mess between them or the cum leaking from Frank's ass as Phil's cock relaxed and he withdrew from Frank.

Frank opened his eyes sometime later still feeling boneless and relaxed. He looked over at the alarm clock, eleven o'clock. He and Phil still had time to get a shower and redress before Biff and Buddy arrived.

"Phil, Hon…"

"Mmm?"

"Phillip, we need to get showers and change the sheets. We've got a little over an hour." He nudged Phil's shoulder, but that only caused Phil to shift and pull Frank tighter into his embrace. The raven haired man was spooned up against Frank, with the brunette's head resting on his bicep. Frank laid there a moment more and sighed. His left hand sought out Phil's and he threaded his fingers between his lover's fingers. The sunlight that played through the sheer curtains caught the silver of their bracelets and for a second Frank swore he had a moment of déjà vu. But he shook his head and twisted in Phil's embrace to try to rouse him again.

….

Phil could feel tears begin to sting his eyes as he hugged Frank one last time at Penn Station. He heard Frank sniff as they broke apart and could see his fiancée's eyes turning red as well.

"Phillip honey, don't cry." Frank soothed as he caressed his cheek. Phil chuckled dryly.

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know." Frank said intuitively. He looked over at Biff and Buddy and burst out laughing. Biff's face was red with embarrassment as he glanced around warily at the attention his friends were getting with their public display of affection. Buddy on the other hand, standing there in his tight t-shirt that showed off his muscled form and sporting his military style haircut, looked like he was going to melt then and there at the tender display.

"Oh hush, you two are just too cute." Buddy smiled as he turned his head to clear something imaginary from his eyes.

"Biff, thanks for going with Frank. I really appreciate it." Phil held out his hand to shake Biff's.

"No prob. You have fun bunking with this one at the farm." Biff replied.

"Buddy, I can't thank you enough for looking after Phil this coming week. It means the world to me." Frank said as he addressed Biff's cousin.

"Fuhgit about it Frank. You have a good seminar, Phil will be fine. Between me, the shrimp, the twins and Stanley's pack he's in good hands." Buddy returned Frank's handshake and turned to his cousin. "You be safe and stay on your toes."

"You too, Bud." Biff gave his older cousin a brotherly hug and looked to Frank. "You ready to board?"

"I guess if we have to." Frank stole another kiss from Phil. "Love you."

"I love you too."

"And I love every frickin' body. Let's get this show on the road!" Biff said impatiently waving his train ticket.

Phil and Buddy stood on the platform watching as Frank and Biff boarded. They walked down the length of the train looking at the windows until he finally found the car Frank and Biff entered. Frank turned around and waved. The windows on the Viewliner didn't open, but Frank opened the vent below.

"So how are the accommodations?" Phil called up.

"Not bad. I think I can put up with Biff in here until tomorrow night." Frank smiled. A loud whistle pierced the air and there were several final calls for boarding. Frank pressed his hand to the glass and Phil reached up as high as he could to meet it.

"I'll call or text you before bed." Frank said. Biff sat down in his seat rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he unfurled the complimentary newspaper a member of the crew gave him as he entered the bedroom suite.

"Sir, you need to step away from the car." A man in a security uniform stated as he walked past Phil and the other well-wishers seeing off their loved ones.

"Sure." Phil said. He stepped back behind the yellow line painted on the cement platform. The train lurched once and then slowly began to roll out of the station. The station was too crowded for any romantic attempts of running after the train until he got to the end of the platform. So Phil stood there until he could no longer see Frank's face, and the train itself became a silver and blue spot in the distance.

…

**Author's Note:**

You didn't think I'd let Frank leave for NOLA without at least one more sex scene did you? Of course not!

If you're curious about the type of accommodations Frank and Biff are enjoying on the train, I invite you to check out Amtrak's website and look up the Viewliner's sleeping accommodations, they're in a four adult bedroom suite. I'm a bit nostalgic about the _Crescent_ as that was the train my husband and I took to New Orleans on our honeymoon years ago (three years before the devastation of Hurricane Katrina).


	13. Can't Handle the Truth?

Chapter 13: Can't Handle the Truth?

Biff had dozed off in his berth with the ear-buds to his iPod still in place. Frank was stretched out on his lower berth in the now dim cabin texting back and forth with Phil who had settled into one of the guest rooms in the Hooper farmhouse.

_Did u try the new app?_

_**Yep. **_**_Ur at the farm now._**

_Good, it works on the train!_

_Met Bud's hubby Sherman._

_**What's he like?**_

_Nice. Good fit for Bud._

_I'd drink a beer with him._

_**Ah beer. I could so go for a Heini right now.**_

_So how is train food?_

_**Much better than airplane food!**_

**_ We had the steak._**

_We got a brick oven pizza near Sherman's work._

_Shh, don't tell Tony, but it was to die for._

_**Your secret's safe with me. **_

_How's your ass?_

_**Lol. Sore. But good sore.**_

**_ I hope I still feel you when I wake up tomorrow._**

_I could wank to that._

_**Don't u dare. Not w/o me to watch. ;D**_

_Did Frank Hardy just send a smiley?_

_**:D Only for you!**_

_Damn straight! You're mine!_

_**I'm yours.**_

**_ Forever. _**

_And always._

_Marry me. 3_

_**I asked first. But yes, I'll marry you.**_

A slightly muffled voice over the PA system announced the imminent approach to the Lynchburg station.

_**Pulling up to L-burg. **_

**_ Gotta wake up Biff._**

_Tell Amy I said Hi._

**_Will do. Goodnight._**

_Goodnight._

Frank sat up and watched the lights of the rural area multiply as they neared the city. He stood from his bunk and nudged Biff's shoulder.

"Biff. Hey Biff."

"Humm? What?" The athlete's eyes snapped open and he looked around, disoriented.

"We're almost in Lynchburg."

"Mmm hmm. Kay." Biff snuggled down into the covers again.

"We'll be picking up Amy."

"So."

"So? Don't you want to speak to her?" Frank asked as he turned on the light over the small metal sink. Biff winced at the brighter light and rolled over.

"Unless she has some Earth shattering news, no. She's covering night, I'm covering day. End of story."

"You two aren't going to snap at each other all week are you?"

"Please Frank, don't kill the only thrill I'm going to get out of this week." Biff said sleepily.

Frank could feel the train slowing down and another announcement went out for those who were getting off the train in Lynchburg.

"You could explore the French Quarter while I'm in meetings, you know? Your being a guest does not require you to sit in on the seminars with me."

"Errgh, Frank, sleeping now."

"Yeah, Joe told me what a bear you can be when you're trying to sleep."

"Grrr…" The athlete growled for emphasis.

Frank laughed lightly and sat down on the end of his berth near the window. The train pulled up to a restored early twentieth century station with antique-looking reproduction gas lights hanging by the posts over the platform. Frank watched as a few people got off the train and a few more boarded. This station wasn't nearly as busy as the ones up north had been, but he could appreciate the architecture of the old building.

A familiar silhouette walked across the platform and handed her suitcase to a member of the crew. As if she could sense she was being watched, Amy turned and smiled at Frank. Moments later Frank could hear the clack of Amy's heals walking through the corridor and then the thump of her overnight bag hitting the floor of the adjoining bedroom.

"Miss? Would you like for me to turn down your bed?" Drawled the gravelly voice of the ancient Mr. Cobbs. The same attendant who had turned down Frank and Biff's berths earlier that evening while they were at dinner.

"Yes, top bunk please."

"Are ya sure Miss? You've got the suite to your self."

"I am certain. The top berth, _please_." she said in a breathy tone. Ah, the old vampire charm again.

"Yes Ma'am. Would you like a bottled water too?" Mr. Cobbs asked cheerfully.

"A mineral water, please."

"No problem, I'll getcha one from the lounge car." Frank waited a few more minutes until the attendant was finished taking care of Amy before he knocked on the door that connected their suites.

"Good Evening Frank, you can come in." Frank walked in only to step back out and close the door.

"Oh G-d! I'm sorry, you didn't say you were changing clothes!"

"Unless you have switched teams in the last couple of days I think we are both safe. And I am a bit too old to care about casual modesty."

"Just let me know when you're decent."

"Frank, I would really just love to meet your mother one day. She raised a gentleman, and that is indeed a rare thing these days." Amy called through the door. "Alright Frank, I am decent now."

Frank opened the door to find Amy in a powder blue, satin floor-length nightgown and matching dressing gown that had a marabou feather trim at the collar, hem and cuffs. Even her kitten heeled slippers had the fuzzy stuff on the tops.

"Expecting company?" Frank asked.

"No. I just enjoy nice things. You should know that by now." Amy said as she poured the mineral water in a cup.

"Mineral water?"

"No thanks."

"Then have a seat Frank dear." Frank sat on the couch that Amy gestured toward.

"I couldn't help but overhear, what was the deal with the top bunk?" Frank pointed to the prepared berth above his head. Amy gracefully sat on the opposite end and sipped her mineral water.

"Long story."

"I've got all night."

"My passage to the colonies. We were chained and packed in tight like the chattel we were believed to be. My mother and I were in a lower berth the entire voyage, the upper berths were mere planks of wood to support the weight of the people above us. I hope you can imagine how disgusting that can be without my having to go into great detail." Frank let out a breath as he pictured the horrid and inhumane conditions the slaves endured.

"Okay, so… yeah, I get the deal with the upper berth now."

"Otherwise I greatly enjoy train travel. Could you imagine after a lifetime of walking everywhere by foot or traveling via horse-drawn carriages to watch the birth and growth of passenger trains? They were the thrill ride of their time. Magnus and I used to love trains." Amy had a distant look on her exotic features.

"You still miss him?" Frank asked as he watched the somber look on Amy's face.

"Some days, yes. But please understand that after a hundred or so years we were like an old married couple. A very crabby, old married couple. We loved each other too much to leave, but our relationship had evolved into more of a business-like partnership. He eventually had other lovers, but by then I could have cared less. In the hierarchy of vampire families, after they were turned they all had to fall in line behind me."

"Did you ever take a lover in all those years? Or would that have been permitted?"

"Yes. One or two or ten. One night stands mostly. I think Magnus would have preferred that I'd had more lovers, just to keep things even between us."

"So what have you been up to the last few days? Don't tell me you've hung out in this small town the whole time."

"I went east early last night, to the place where my journey began."

"Benjamin's family estate?"

"Yes. I visited his grave. His son and descendents are buried there too. But it is no longer owned by that family. However, the family that bought the property did a good job restoring the home and remodeling the kitchen."

"You went inside?" Frank asked in disbelief.

"Yes, just to look around for old time's sake. Worry not Frank, they never knew I was there, and I did not harm the family. I cannot say the same for the child molester I came across in a nearby trailer park."

"What the hell happened?"

"I really do not feel like going into the gory details Frank. But the girl hightailed back to her parents' trailer, the bastard is dead, and I am more than well fed for the next week or so."

…..

"Rise and shine Night Owl. They just announced breakfast will be served in thirty." Biff said as he poked Frank's shoulder. Frank opened his eyes to see pastel colors flying past the window. The rising sun was on their side of the train.

"Is the door closed to Amy's side of the compartment?"

"Do you smell smoke?" Biff asked sarcastically. He was still damp from his shower in the incredibly tiny stall.

"Ha ha. Let me get a quick shower and we'll head to the dining car."

"Good luck with that. Barely enough room in there to cuss a cat."

"Where are we anyway?"

"Just north of Gainsville Georgia. And yes, I did talk to Miss Priss before she turned in for the day."

"Good. I don't know why you two have to be at each other's throats all the time."

"Why not? She's my natural born enemy."

"You weren't _born_ a slayer, you trained to be one. And vampires aren't _naturally_ born. She was once human you know." Frank reminded Biff as he gathered a clean change of clothes and his toiletries.

"Oh really? I had no idea." Biff snapped

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed!" Frank retorted.

"Look, I get around her and something just… sets me off…" Biff said as he slipped his shoes on.

"I think you're just not used to encountering a female who's your intellectual superior."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I've known you since kindergarten and you've never dated anyone smart enough to be on the chess club or the debate team. You always gravitated toward any floozy who'd bat a pair of flirty eyes at you and listen to your tales of team-sports glory. But it never lasted, because of what? What did you always tell me? You were _bored_. The girl never held your interest because _she_ only cared about one thing. Now you've met a woman who sees through your bullshit and challenges you on a higher level and you don't know how to take it."

Biff marched up to Frank, a scowl on his reddening face.

"You. Are. Out. Of. Your. Fucking. Mind!" The taller boy said through clenched teeth. Another announcement rang out that breakfast would be served in fifteen minutes. Biff turned away from Frank and opened the door to the corridor. "Hurry up. I'll save you a seat."

Biff slid the thin compartment door shut with a bang.

…

Biff gave Frank the cold shoulder until they were well into Alabama. They had gone through the lounge car on their way back to their suite and Biff noticed a pretty young woman wearing glasses reading a novel in the corner. Biff turned on the Hooper charm and walked up to her to ask about her book. Frank rolled his eyes at his friend's attempt to prove him wrong and headed back to the suite to catch a nap.

As he approached the bedroom suite he noticed Mr. Cobbs knocking on Amy's door. Frank was sure he had double checked that the "Do Not Disturb" switch was flipped before he left for lunch.

"Can I help you Sir?" Frank asked as he got closer.

"I'm just checkin' on Miss Johnson. She hasn't come out today for breakfast or supper." The older man said.

"She's a friend of mine. Miss Johnson works third shift. This is normal for her. Don't worry, she told me she had a good dinner before she boarded last night." At least that last part wasn't a bold-faced lie. Mr. Cobbs seemed satisfied with that answer and walked on down the corridor checking on other passengers.

Frank sighed with relief and entered his compartment. Realizing he had the perfect opportunity to be alone, he hit the speed dial on his smartphone and called Phil.

"Hey Babe!" Phil answered when he picked up.

"Hey there Hon. Are you on your lunch break?"

"Yup, in the break room though. Buddy insisted on driving me to work today. I'm sure he'll get tired of that pretty quick."

"Did the pack make rounds last night?"

"Good G-d yes. About ten thirty they started howling and barking like they'd run a cat up a tree. It was poor Zeke! One of them got a hold of his leg and was gnawing on him like a chew toy. Zeke swatted at the Were to get it off and knocked him into the side of the barn! Stanley got all up in arms because one of his men got a concussion. Buddy managed to soothe things over, but I'd never seen Zeke so mad. Well okay, once, but that was a different set of circumstances."

"Jesus! Is Zeke okay?"

"Sure, sure. The bite marks were gone in a couple of hours, he drank a little O neg and all was right with the world."

"Did anyone see or smell anything?"

"No." Phil sounded both relieved and frustrated. "Let's see, where are you now? Alabama?"

"Good guess!"

"Not really, I opened the app."

"I have an internet stalker." Frank laughed.

"Not even funny Babe." Frank could hear Phil chewing his food as he talked. They said their goodbyes and I love you's then Frank decided to check in with Joe.

"Frank, where the hell is Phil? Van tried to call him last night around ten thirty about checking out wedding venues this week and he didn't answer the house phone or his cell phone!"

"He's staying at the Hooper farm with Buddy while I'm gone. Just as a little piece of mind for me." Frank assured.

"Why do you need piece of mind Frank? I thought the vampire surveillance system Amy and the shrimp have self-imposed would be enough. What's going on that you're not telling me?" Frank sighed. He'd wanted to keep Joe out of the loop so the blonde would concentrate on Vanessa, and so far he and Biff and done a fine job.

"There was a werewolf sighting in our neighborhood. Biff enlisted the help of Stanley Wood's wolf pack to keep an eye on things. If it's a rogue, it wouldn't dare cross into their territory. Zeke's out there too."

"So you've circled the wagons around Phil? Not a bad idea, only one thing… why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a last minute thing." _Liar, liar, pants on fire!_ thought Frank. He'd told his share of fiction when his life or someone else's depended on it, like he had when he was Eric's captive_. But his brother?_ Frank hated lying to Joe and yet he felt his younger brother needed one less thing to worry about, or get involved in.

When Frank had been kidnapped and then rescued back in January, he'd seen his little brother throttled and nearly killed by a vampire twice, and that was two times too many. It was because of him that Joe had taken up vampire hunting with Biff after all. And every time he watched his Jewish fiancée partake of vampire blood in the morning with his coffee, he knew Phil was crossing a line with his heritage and spirituality, all because of _him_.

Maybe Frank would never be back to his former glory physically. Maybe he'd forever have to live with his limitations. Frank was beginning to come to terms with that. But he'd be damned sure to see that those he loved were safe, even if it meant a lie or two.

…

Author's Note:

Yeah… that last bit might bite Frank in the butt someday…


	14. Stepping Out

Chapter 14: Stepping Out

Amy's "associate" in New Orleans came through with the promised cloud cover, which made things safe enough for the vampire to travel from the Amtrak terminal to the Ritz Carlton on Canal Street in the fading light of Monday evening. What no one had counted on was how well the witch's weather spell coordinated with an oncoming tropical depression that swept through the gulf.

Monday evening's cloud cover evolved into a thunderstorm that was followed by Tuesday morning's gulley wash, followed by Wednesday's high humidity (well, _higher_ humidity, New Orleans in the summer is infamously hot and sticky) and misting rain.

Fortunately many of the local hotels, including the property Frank, Biff and Amy were lodging in, offered complimentary shuttle service to and from the MorialConvention Center for the NCLISC every half hour. However, this restricted any venturing about during the free time Frank got, and Biff was starting to get a bit restless. This came as no surprise to Frank really. Biff had been this way in junior and high school. The weeks that passed between football season and basketball season, and subsequently basketball season to baseball season were tortuous for the tall boy. With no where to release all of his pent up energy, Biff usually found himself getting into some sort of mischief and winding up grounded.

It was starting to feel like high school again for Biff. Get up, eat breakfast, sit in on some seminar, see the venders during the breakout session, eat lunch, sit in on another dull, droning lecture… How in G-d's name did Frank find any of this interesting? But there he sat, each speaker earning the young detective's rapt attention, taking notes or discreetly switching on his digital recorder so that later he could replay the lecture again over and over…

Amy was her usual aloof self. A "Do Not Disturb" sign remained on her door all day. And at night, despite the rain, she patrolled the rooftops and alleys of the French Quarter, the Central Business District, Marigny, the Seventh Ward and Storyville. Amy called Ezekiel nightly, relieved that no further incident had occurred since Sunday night's encounter with the young werewolf of the local pack. At least Ezekiel had made a new friend out of the ordeal.

But as the barometric pressure rose, so did the nagging feeling Amy had that something was about to happen.

…

"Yes!"

"What's up?" Biff asked when Frank fist-pumped into the air as he sat on his bed early Thursday evening.

"The weather channel," said Frank as he looked up from his tablet, "zero percent chance of rain tomorrow, winds light and variable, only forty percent humidity. And tomorrow's a free day before the farewell banquet."

"Thank you Jesus! I was starting to go stir crazy cooped up in this hotel, even if it is the Ritz!" Biff flopped down on his bed and stretched out. "I guess I'll go hit this place's gym again before it closes for the night."

"Would you rather come and stretch you legs with me? I believe the rain clouds are starting to push off." asked Amy as she entered through the door that adjoined their guest suites. The tall ebony-skinned vampire was wearing a jade green, deep V-necked dress with a pleated skirt that hit her legs mid-thigh. Her matching break-neck high heels made her appear as tad taller than Biff. Frank whistled low as the statuesque woman turned around for him when he made a twirling motion with his finger.

"Nice Amy. I have a feeling you're going to explore more than rooftops and alleyways tonight."

"Indeed, I feel the need to mix in with the locals tonight. The change in the weather will bring the humans and other creatures back out in droves. And I could use an extra set of eyes and a nose tonight."

She looked at Biff in his worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt with his gym's logo on the front.

"Please tell me you packed something better to wear than that!" she sniffed.

"What? I'm a walking billboard for my gym? Gotta drum up business." the athlete defended.

"Oh, you look like a walking advertisement for something…"

"Hey Biff, what about that Burberry shirt Vanessa gave you for your birthday? I saw you hang up in the closet. That would look nice while you're out with Amy" Frank suggested.

"The burr what?" Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. He got up from his bed and walked to the closet, pulling out the trimmed-to-fit shirt.

"It's hot as blue blazes out there and you think I should wear a long sleeved shirt?"

"Hmmm, roll up the sleeves and button the roll-up tabs and it should be fine." Amy nodded. Biff huffed, but he took the shirt from Frank's hands and stalked off to the bathroom.

A while later he emerged from the bathroom with the shirt on and the front of it was buttoned up almost all the way to the collar. Amy shook her head and stood in front of him, unbuttoning a few more buttons with her cool fingers. Biff thought for a moment that he might have been feverish, as his skin tingled hotly and he shivered from her touch. Then his slayer training kicked in and he looked at her to make sure she wasn't breathing right into his face. But instead he saw that she was paying more attention to adjusting his rolled cuffs and making sure his collar was straight. He looked away from her over to Frank, who had returned to his spot propped up on his bed. The brunette gave him a smug look before returning to his tablet.

"Wait a minute! Who's going to baby-sit Frank?"

"I have a few of my "relatives" watching all corners and entrances to this hotel. Besides, they don't have the werewolf's smell in their scent memory like you and I do." Amy answered.

"I was going to hang here and call Phil anyway. Since the weather's going to be nice tomorrow, I was thinking of finally exploring the French Quarter. That is, if you're up for it after carousing all night with Amy." Frank explained, not looking up from what he was reading.

Amy stepped back from Biff and scrutinized his appearance. She placed a long, slim finger on her glossed lips as if she was considering something. Then her eyes widened and she headed in to the boys' bathroom. She came back out with a tube of hair product that Phil had slipped into Frank's toiletries bag and squeezed a small amount into her hand.

"Whoa, whoa! What're you going to do with that?" Before he could stop her, Amy was running her fingers and the clear gel through Biff's short, light brown hair.

"There, much better. Now you look like you did not just roll out of bed." Amy smiled at her handiwork. She turned to Frank for his approval and the detective nodded.

"You're a stud Biff."

"Very funny Frank." He grumbled. Amy picked up her clutch purse from the foot of Frank's bed and grabbed Biff's wrist.

"I won't keep him out too late, Frank. Have a good evening." Amy waved.

"You kids have fun now!" Frank called after them. At that Biff not so subtly flipped Frank the bird just before the door closed behind him. Frank cackled however, knowing Biff only ever made the gesture to be funny.

…

"Housekeeping…" Rang out a feminine voice that startled Frank.

"Just… a minute!" he called out as he started tucking himself back into his pants. He picked his smart phone back up and cradled it between his ear and shoulder. "Phil, Hon? Can you hang on a sec? Gotta get the door."

"Mmm, I'll try… I wanna finish with you…"

"Oh, G-d…" Frank panted as he set the phone down and tried to control his breathing as he crossed the room to open the door.

"Did you order extra towels Mr… Johnson?" The short and swarthy woman stood there in her black maid's uniform with a white, starched apron.

"Oh, um, the rooms are booked in Miss Johnson's name. I'm Hardy… I mean I'm Frank Hardy." Frank fumbled as he tried his best to keep the lower half of his body behind the door so the maid would not see the embarrassing bulge in his pants.

"Oh, _Sí_. Did you order extra towels Mr. Hardy?" The woman asked again.

"No, I didn't, but my roommate may have." Biff had been taking a lot of showers on this trip. "I'm sorry, I'm just…um… a little tired from a long day." Frank shook his head realizing he was making a damn fool of himself. He'd only been caught masterbating once in his life, and he could now add a second time to that short list. Frank opened the door a little wider to allow the woman in to put the towels away. While she was in the bathroom Frank grabbed his wallet to get out some money for her tip. His hard on had begun to calm down thanks to the interruption, and he hoped Phil didn't finish without him.

"Is there anything else you would like Mr. Hardy?"

"Oh, no thank you…" Frank glimpsed her name tag, "Rosario." He reached out to hand her the tip.

"You're very welcome Mr. Hardy." Her eyes went wide momentarily when her fingertips touched his. She recovered quickly and nodded. "Thank you for such a generous tip."

"You're welcome. Have a good night!" He tried to smile genuinely, but he really wanted her to leave so he could get back on the phone with Phil. Rosario left the room and Frank quickly closed the safety latch behind her and launched himself back toward the bed.

"Phil? You still there Hon?"

"Yeah Babe, I'm still here and rock hard for you. Pull your cock back out and touch yourself." Frank wasted no time doing as he was ordered.

…..

Rosario Martinez took the service elevator back down to the linens room and checked off on a computer screen that the towels had been delivered. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her uniform's pocket and approached the other maid who was reading a gossip magazine and sipping on an orange soda.

"Maria, estoy saliendo fuera a tener un cigarillo.*"

"Rosario! Son esas cosas vamos a matar un día!*" Marie hissed. Rosario chuckled and walked out of the back door to the back lot.

"Buenos noches!" She called back into the building.

"Buenos noches?" Maria looked up from her gossip rag, confused.

Rosario didn't stop to smoke however. Other than the security cameras outside, who knew how many other "eyes" were looking down on the entrances to the Ritz. She stepped out to Burgundy Street and then walked south onto Iberville Street and turned in to a dark, narrow, and cluttered alley between two businesses that never re-opened after Katrina. When she was well cloaked by the shadows Rosario suddenly wasn't Rosario anymore. She was a taller, bottle-blonde woman, and Rosario's petite sized uniform clung to her curves and the snap buttons at the bust popped open. The woman pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number she knew well. She lit a cigarette as she waited for the other line to pick up.

"Oui?"

"Found him. He's alone now but the bitch has got the place covered."

"We need to draw him out."

"I think I've got that covered."

"You _think_?" the voice balked.

"You just be ready tomorrow. Okay?"

"Fine my little sorcière. I'll have things ready."

"Oh, and there's one more thing you need to know…" When she finished her conversation she snapped the phone closed and took a final drag from her cigarette. She dropped the still glowing butt and snuffed it out with the heel of her now too-tight sensible shoes.

"Thanks for the smokes." She said and tossed the pack down to the corner of the alley, and into the lap of the undressed, very still, very dead, real Rosario Martinez.

…

"Here, I got you something to drink." Amy said as she produced two large cups she got a bar serving drinks from a street side window on Bourbon Street.

"You know I can't have alcohol!" Biff hissed, but Amy smiled and took a sip of the slushied drink.

"It is a virgin daiquiri Allen. I did not forget that you are a teetotaler. However, we need to blend in and look like we are having a good time." Amy put her free arm through Biff's and guided him down Bourbon Street.

Biff would be lying if he said he wasn't having a good time. The lively music that was pumping out of the different venues made his pulse quicken with excitement and a smile slowly crept onto his face. But he could see why Amy might need a little help scouting the area from street level. So many sights, sounds, smells and colors were an assault on the senses. And unlike the bustling throng he was used to in New York, the crowds on Bourbon street didn't seem to mind the occasional stare or eye contact. They were met with smiles and salutes of poorly pronounced "_Laissez le bon temps rouler!* _" from sunburned and very drunk tourists. This made looking around for anything suspicious easier, because there was something to see everywhere you looked.

They came up empty on Bourbon and Royal Streets, so they walked on toward Jackson Square and on toward Decatur. Finally they decided to stop when they reached the boardwalk that ran along beside the Mississippi River. They both sat on a bench to take in the breeze and rest. A short ways off, they could see the steamboat Natchez which was lit up brilliantly even though it was done cruising for the night.

"Did you ever ride on one of those?" Biff asked in an attempt at pleasant conversation.

"Yes, but further up north, where people of my color were allowed on board as something other than second class citizens."

"So you had to deal with all that stuff I learned about in History. The segregation, prejudices..."

"Yes and no. Magnus and I spent many years abroad where one's color mattered little. And being a vampire had certain advantages as well." Amy sighed and turned to Biff. "Enough about me and my long boring life…"

"Oh I don't find it boring. Even though I don't ask many questions, whenever I hear you explaining something about your past… or history in general, to Frank or Phil, I find it really… interesting." Biff began to blush as he realized he was babbling.

"Oh, I see." Amy gave Biff a small smile. "Well, enough about the _past_ then. You are a young man Allen, surely you do not plan on working in a gym your whole life. And I cannot imagine there being any profit to be found in slaying."

"Actually, I'm saving up my money to buy out the owner someday, or open a gym of my own. I'd be three quarters of the way there if Buddy could buy out my half of Papa's farm. But he and Sherman aren't in a place financially to do that. Firefighters and elementary school teachers don't get paid that much."

"You and your cousin could sell the farm and split the revenue."

"No, we want to keep the farm in the family. And Buddy and Sherman would love to move in someday and start a family."

"How much do you need to make things even between the two of you?"

"About… oh, no way, I'm not telling you. I know you've got pretty deep pockets, but I don't need your charity. Papa would roll over in his grave if he knew I took money from a vampire."

"Charity? That is ridiculous…"

"Oh come off it! Do you really expect me to believe that Phil closed on that house as quickly as he did without your help? I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, but I'm not stupid!"

"No one ever said you were stupid, at least not I. I have seen you in action, it takes a sharp wit to strategize and fight the way you do. I respect that."

"You… respect me?"

"Yes, I do. You are just too blinded by your own prejudices to see it." She stood from the bench and straightened the wrinkles in her dress. "It is getting late. Let us head back the way we came. You need your rest so you can explore the city with Frank tomorrow."

She noticed Biff was just staring at her, and her mouth actually went a little dry when she recognized the look in his eyes.

"Allen?" Biff didn't realize he had been staring and stood quickly.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." He tossed his empty drink cup into the trash bin by the bench and gave Amy his arm.

"This way milady?" Biff asked as she entwined her elbow in his and they headed back toward Jackson square.

…

Author's Note:

*Spanish: "Maria, I'm going outside to have a cigarette." "Rosario! Those things are going to kill you someday!"

*French: Let the good times roll!


	15. Press Your Luck

Chapter 15: Press Your Luck

Frank rolled over in his bed Friday morning to find Biff's bed empty. Not just empty, but not even slept in. His faded t-shirt was still draped at the corner where he had tossed it after he had come out of the bathroom Thursday night. Frank sat up and put on his glasses. The hotel's alarm clock read a quarter until six. Frank glanced down at his smart phone to confirm it. And to think _he _was the one who needed a tracking device on him.

He padded over to the bathroom and took care of his body's morning needs. When he came out he heard the adjoining door to Amy's suite creak open. And there was Biff, dazed, rumpled and stunned to see Frank already up.

"This is… is not what it looks like." Biff stammered.

"Sure it's not."

"I'm serious, we were just up talking."

"Is that what they call it these days?" Frank rummaged through a drawer for a pair of cargo shorts that came down far enough on his leg to cover most of his surgical scars. After their tense confrontation on the train earlier in the week, Frank was having a bit of fun with Biff's current predicament.

"Seriously Frank, I was a gentleman. We got back to the hotel and we sat in her room talking about… stuff…" Biff sat on the end of his bed.

"Okay, if you say so… Just watch where you step. You know what they say about "a woman scorned" and she's a vampire to boot."

"What are you doing up so early anyway?" Wanting to change the subject Biff noticed Frank heading back to the bathroom.

"You don't remember? A few of those detectives from New Jersey we met invited us to have breakfast at Café Du Monde this morning."

"Oh crap! Yeah I forgot. But they said meet at seven thirty or eight, right?"

"Well yeah, but someone slipped a couple of coupons under my door last night, early bird special. I figured we could get there and place our order and then hang out until they showed up."

"Ah, Frugal Frank strikes again." Frank shook his head and proceeded with his shower. When he got out Biff was passed out on the bed asleep.

"Biff? Hey c'mon and take your shower." Frank nudged Biff's shoulder, but the athlete snorted and nuzzled in to his pillow. Just great. He scribbled a note and left it by Biff's bed telling him where he was headed and reminding him about the tracking app on his phone just incase something happened.

Not that he really wanted to press his luck, but the week had been uneventful, both here and back at home. Maybe their divide and conquer strategy worked and the rogue werewolf had given up. And there had been no sign of Eric since that strange feeling Amy had a couple of months ago, but that was back in New York. Confident he could walk to the café without something disastrous happening Frank picked up his cane, pocketed his phone and headed out the door.

…..

Early morning in New Orleans was relatively peaceful compared to the boisterous atmosphere that was played up by the tourism campaigns. Shop owners hosed down their sidewalks, public works swept the debris from the night before down the street to waiting garbage trucks and delivery trucks were backed up to restaurants where fresh produce and seafood were hauled out to make ready for the day's patrons. The French Quarter was lively, but in a more subtle way.

The fresh morning breeze was a welcome change from the heavy humidity and rain he'd experienced earlier in the week. Frank walked down Canal Street and then turned left onto Decatur, glancing into shop windows and thinking about the ones he'd like to come back to after breakfast when the stores were open.

There was only a small crowd eating beignets and sipping chicory coffee when Frank finally arrived at Café Du Monde. He presented his coupon and placed his order. While he waited Frank tried Biff's cell phone.

"Yeah?"

"You awake yet?"

"Am now."

"Well c'mon and get up, I'm here at Café Du Monde. Call me when you get about halfway down Decatur and I'll place your order before this coupon expires."

"Jeez Frank it's not a big deal…"

"It's fifty percent off!"

"G-d! Okay, lemme shower and I'll head that way."

Frank ended the call and placed his phone on the table. He looked around as the heart of the French Quarter continued to wake up. A short, matronly woman with salt and pepper hair was sipping coffee at a table beside his.

"Well Good Mornin'." She said pleasantly.

"Good Morning." Frank returned.

"Is this your first time in N'awlins?" Frank assumed she was a local as easily and comfortably as she let the city's nickname roll off her tongue.

"I've been here all week on a conference. This is my first time venturing out. Do you live around here?" The blonde smiled and shook her head.

"I live in Metairie, but I work in a shop here in the Quarter. Just having a little quiet time and breakfast before the tourists come out to play." She took another sip of her coffee to fill the awkward silence as a waitress brought Frank his coffee and beignets. Frank's mouth watered at the smell of the sweet fried dough covered in a mountain of powdered sugar.

"Oh my G-d that looks good." He picked one up to bite but the woman stopped him.

"You know, there's a tradition down here. The first time you eat a beignet someone has to blow the sugar in your face. It's part of the fun and that's why they pile the sugar on the way they do. It's no good unless you make a mess." Well why not? When in Rome…

"Okay, go ahead." Frank said in the spirit of fun. The woman picked up a beignet from her own plate and blew the powdered sugar in his face. Frank winced as the white stuff hit his face but he laughed and blinked a few times to make sure there was no sugar getting into his contact lenses.

"Oh my!" The woman drawled, "I didn't mean to get you so good." She laughed lightly and handed Frank a couple of napkins.

"Thanks." He said as he knocked the sugar off of his polo shirt and began to wipe it off his face. He sneezed a few times.

"Bless you!"

"Thanks." He opened his eyes and sneezed again.

"Goodness, you must have gotten a good bit up your nose." She placed a small hand on his shoulder.

"Eee…shooo! Sorry, yeah, I musta…" Frank's head swam for a moment. He looked at the older woman and for a moment he couldn't discern the look on her face. Where he had assumed there would be a look of motherly concern, she seemed to look expectant, like she was waiting for something to happen.

"What're you…" His head swam again, more dizzying than before.

"Oh my darlin', you don't look so good." Something was not right, alarm bells were going off in Frank's head but for some reason he could not get his body to react.

"I think you should lie down. C'mon with me and I'll take care of you sweetheart." Obediently, Frank stood and allowed the woman to put a supporting arm around his waist and draped his arm over her shoulder. She grabbed his cane as well and the odd couple made their way across Decatur Street toward Jackson Square.

…..

Biff finished toweling off from his shower and dressed, cursing himself for staying up so late. Now he'd be dragging tail all day, even if he did take an extra dose of vampire serum, he wouldn't have his usual pep in his step. Biff walked through Amy's suite and double checked the door that led to the corridor. Do Not Disturb sign? Check. He fiddled with the heavy light-blocking curtains, making sure there was no chance the sun would seep through at any point during the day. Check.

He turned around to see the dark, sleeping figure of Amy Johnson in the king-sized bed. He chuckled to himself, for as cool and sophisticated as the four hundred year old vampire tried to be, the woman was curled up in the fetal position, her fancy, manicured thumb dangerously close to her bottom lip. All Biff would need to do is push her elbow just a hair and she would be sucking that thumb like a two year old. Nah, not worth it.

Biff did sit beside her on the bed and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Okay, this morning was exactly what it looked like. Biff just wasn't sure how Frank would react to them moving so fast. He definitely didn't feel like getting a lecture on matters of the heart before daybreak from Frank Hardy, Bayport's Oldest Living Virgin. Well, at least a virgin until last year. Not everyone was lucky enough to fall madly in love and get engaged in less than a year to the first person they ever have sex with. Not everyone was lucky enough to fall in love with a human.

…..

Biff was two blocks down Decatur Street when he looked at his phone. He knew he'd be pushing it, but Frank should be able to put in his coffee and donut order before that stupid coupon expired. He rang Frank, but he didn't pick up. Crap. Maybe Frank was talking to someone, calling Phil to tell him how romantic New Orleans was. _Oh Phil I miss you, mwa mwa mwa_.

Café Du Monde came into view when he got past Jackson Square. He looked around the dining area and did not see Frank. Biff pulled out his phone again and quickly dialed Frank. While he waited for Frank to pick up, he heard a familiar ring tone coming from near the kitchen. He walked over and found a smart phone lighting up and ringing in a Lost and Found box near the cashier. Frank's phone!

A cold feeling prickled down his spine as he reached in and picked up the phone. It began ringing again and Biff recognized the number that came up on the caller ID. Shit!

"Joe?"

"Hey, Biff. Can I talk to Frank?" The younger Hardy brother sounded agitated.

"Um."

"Biff? What's going on?"

"I was supposed to meet him here at the Café Du Monde. I'm just now getting here and he's not here, just his phone." Silence.

"Frank's not there?" Joe said finally, his voice shaky.

"Hold on, lemme check my phone. Phil made a tracking app to follow Frank…"

"You and the vampire went with Frank to New Orleans to keep him safe and you lost him. How the fuck did you lose him? Why weren't you with him?"

"I…Just hang on Joe! The tracking app is picking up his signal." Biff crossed the street and headed to Jackson Square. The signal brought him to a shop in the PontalbaBuilding, La Fleur Minérale. The shop was still dark like many of the others, the sign on the door still flipped over to "Closed." Biff looked at the hours posted on a sign near the door knob, the store would not open until ten o'clock. It was now almost seven thirty, two and a half hours! So much could happen in that amount of time. Biff felt like his brain was going to explode. This was the deepest shit he'd ever been in his life. Frank was missing, on his watch. The only person Biff could think of to help him was asleep and not able to come out in the sunlight. Damn, damn, damn!

"Biff!" He could hear Joe squawk on Frank's phone.

"The signal took me to a perfume shop. But it doesn't open until ten." He looked around, still seeing no sign of Frank.

"Alright I'm heading down there! Lemme check and see when the next flight down there is."

"Okay." Biff said weakly. What else could he say? He'd screwed up. But wait. They were supposed to meet up with those detectives from New Jersey for breakfast. The city was crawling with detectives…

…..

In a damp, dank basement all Frank could do was to stare into the darkness helplessly. When he and the older woman had arrived at a store front, a suave looking middle-aged man with silver hair opened the door for them and closed it quickly behind them.

"Mozelle, I do believe I owe you a raise, mon cher."

"We'll discuss it later after you fleece him." Mozelle winked at the silver haired man and he kissed her cheek in return. And before Frank's eyes Mozelle's appearance began to change. She grew taller, curvier, her hair changed from the bobbed salt and pepper hair-do to long, wavy and artificially blonde.

"Why don't you change clothes while I make our guest more comfortable?" the older man purred, watching appreciatively as the woman sashayed into a room in the back of the store. He turned his attention to Frank and appraised the young man.

"Come Monsieur Hardy. Your new accommodations wait." Frank's foot started forward and then stopped. No! Frank thought. There was no way he was willfully going wherever this man was taking him. Frank started to sweat, fighting the command his body was given. But the man gave him a feral smile.

"Ah… He said you were a feisty one." The man walked behind the antique counter and pulled out a jar of something that resembled bath salts. Frank tried to get away, tried to tell his body to back up and get out of there. But his body was still obeying his brain's command not move. While Frank's brain and body struggled for control the older man approached, a few granules of the substance were on the tip of his index finger. He grabbed Frank's jaw with one hand, just enough to open the boy's mouth, and shoved his finger in, pressing the granules to the tissue under Frank's tongue.

"There now." He patted Frank's cheek. "That was not so bad, was it?" The granules felt like pop rocks exploding under his tongue. And with every miniature explosion he felt his body relax, loosen, until his knees buckled and the older man caught him.

"I apologize Monsieur Hardy, but you forced my hand." He scooped Frank up like he weighed no more than a ragdoll. Frank's head lolled back, he had no control over his neck muscles and all he could make of his surroundings was the pressed tin ceiling tiles above and the side of the man's face. His head was still swimming from the intoxicating effects of that stuff the man put in mouth, Frank was disoriented and had no way of telling in which direction they were going.

The only thing he knew for sure was the sensation of them descending a narrow stairway. The older man did not bother to turn on the lights, although some light did pass down from the opened door. Apparently this man found the dark quite easy to navigate. Frank felt himself being lowered onto a soft surface. Then his polo shirt was being rudely pulled up and over his head. His shorts were unbuttoned, his underwear was yanked off.

In his head Frank was in a state of shock and panic. This can't be happening again! He'd just gotten his life back! He and Phil were making plans for a future! _Stop touching me, please. Please no! No, no, no…._

The man could feel Frank's tremors as he finished undressing the brunette. He cupped Frank's face in both of his hands.

"Shh… Mon cher." He said soothingly. "You are a pretty thing. But you are not mine to have. I will not harm you. What is the saying? Look but no touch?" Frank could feel the weathered fingers brush the hair from his forehead. "But I must keep you here for a time. I must make sure you do not leave just yet. Oui?"

Frank heard the clinking of something metallic and felt his wrists being clapped in rough feeling manacles. His ankles were secured as well.

"I suggest you get a little rest now, Monsieur Hardy, until the effects wear off. And oh!" the man removed Frank's bracelet from his wrist. "My Mozelle requires her well deserved raise."

Frank felt the man get off the bed and heard him walk up the wooden stairs. The door to the basement closed, and Frank was plunged into total darkness.


	16. Played!

Chapter 16: Played!

Phil closed his eyes and leant his head back against the window of Buddy's truck.

"Sleep good?" Buddy asked as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Eh, tossed and turned all night. I kept dreaming about chuppahs and my mom running around complaining that there wasn't enough brisket to go around."

"Ha! I had some wild dreams when Sherman and I were planning our wedding. One night I dreamed the minister was getting to the part about "does anyone have just cause why these two should not be joined together…" and Sherman's ex-wife ran down the aisle, pregnant like someone about to have triplets, screaming "I'm having his baby!"

"Oh my G-d!" Phil laughed.

"And his ex is actually pretty nice, not one of those bitchy vindictive ex-wives you hear about. She's really cool about their daughter's custody situation too."

"I didn't know Sherman had a kid."

"Oh yeah, but we don't get to have Morgan over that much because of Sherman's crazy work schedule. And we really don't have the room in our apartment for her to have extended stays. Poor thing has to camp out on the couch when she's over on visitation weekends."

"I know what that's like. I slept on Biff and Chet's couch for months after my breakup with Dan."

"I remember Biff telling me about that." Buddy pulled up to the front of Phil's office building. "Want to get another pizza for dinner tonight with me and Sherman?"

"Sure, sounds good to me. Thanks for the lift." Phil hopped out of the truck and headed in for another day of work. Thank G-d it was Friday! In another day and a half Frank would be home and back in his arms. Phil couldn't wait.

…..

"Joe Honey?" Vanessa came out of the bathroom weak and exhausted. How many more weeks was this morning sickness supposed to last?

Joe wasn't in the bed. Maybe he'd gone to the kitchen to start his breakfast. The kitchen sounded like a good idea just then. The ginger ale was in there, so were to the saltine crackers. She made her way down the hall and found Joe sitting at the kitchen table. His wavy blonde hair was wild from where he had been running his fingers through it. He had his laptop open and his phone to his ear.

"What's wrong?" She whispered. It wasn't like Joe to be working from his laptop this early in the morning. It wasn't like Joe to work from home period. He looked up at her with worried eyes and held up a finger to indicate he'd tell her in a minute. Vanessa poured her soda and got her crackers out of the cabinet while Joe was listening to whoever was on the other line.

"Okay, thank you!" Joe ended the call and turned to his wife.

"Frank's missing. He went out for breakfast without Biff and by the time Biff got there, Frank was gone. Only his phone was found."

"Oh Joe! Are you going down there?"

"Yes, trying to book a flight now." He finally put his phone down and took his wife's hand. "I'm sorry I'm leaving you while you're so sick."

"It's okay Honey. I'll get Mom to come by and check on me, you go help them find Frank." Suddenly Joe felt like a bucket of cold water was poured over him. Wasn't that the very thing Frank had been asking Joe to do? To stay closer to home and take care of his wife and child, to stop depending on his mother-in-law to do what he should be doing in the first place. Van was his wife now. Van was his responsibility. But here she was, ready to be handed off back to her mother while he ran off to do G-d knows what.

Joe dropped his head into his hands, choking with emotion. Vanessa put a comforting hand on his arm to pull a hand from his face.

"Joe, talk to me. What's going through that head of yours?"

"Frank and I had argument a couple of weeks ago. Frank was lecturing me about hunting with Biff so much, expecting Andrea to look after you, about being here for you more. I more or less told him to mind his own business. I just…"

"Honey, look at me." Joe raised his head to face his wife. "I knew there were dangers and risks going into this marriage. And I'm all Mom's got now, so I don't mind spending the extra time with her. After all the horrible things Frank's been through, maybe he just wanted to make sure everyone he loves is safe and sound, including you."

Joe took Vanessa's hand and kissed her palm.

"I love you." He said.

"I love you too." Joe's phone rang again. He picked it up and saw the call was coming from his father. How was he going to break the news of Frank's disappearance to his dad? That twice in a year's time his eldest son had gone missing.

"Hello?" Joe answered.

"Joe, are you still at home?"

"Yeah."

"I just got a call from Doug Wiseman, he's down in New Orleans at the conference. He said that Frank's gone missing…"

Crap!

…..

Emile Louvel closed and locked the heavy vault-like basement door with satisfaction. Forget Eric Langhorne's sappy tale of love lost. With the information Mozelle provided him with last night, he was going to be a very rich man in a few days. He was comfortable now, but this would set him up for the rest of his supernatural life.

He walked into the office in the back of his perfume store, and there sat Mozelle placing an order for more ribbons, tissue paper and shopping bags.

"Mon cher, for you!" He tossed a silver bracelet to his employee. The blonde woman caught the bracelet and turned it over in her fingers.

"This one looks similar to the one Eric gave you to pick up the boy's scent, just in better condition."

"Oui, that it is." Emile picked up the cane Mozelle had brought in and examined its intricate silver workings. "For one so young, he has very nice taste."

"When's Delebon and his bunch supposed to get here?" Mozelle asked as she retrieved a jeweler's monocle from her desk drawer to examine the emerald on the bracelet.

"Let me see… Today is Friday… Sunday night at the earli…"

"Oh shit! Emile, look at this!" Mozelle turned in her chair and handed the monocle and bracelet to older man.

"What is it? What am I looking at Mozelle? What is that thing behind the emerald?"

"Where's the first bracelet Emile?" Emile rummaged through a drawer in his desk and withdrew the battered bracelet whose emerald was missing. He'd never examined the thing other than to smell it to get Frank Hardy's scent, and Mozelle hadn't bothered to give it a second look since the jewel was missing.

"It's a computer chip of some sort." A sudden realization came over Mozelle and the woman began to panic. "Think Emile, what did Eric say Frank did for a living? Why was he in New Orleans in the first place? The P.I. convention! Emile, that's probably a tracking device!"

"Merde*! We must get rid of them." Emile thought for a moment. "Go change clothes mon cher. Take these and lose them in the French Market." Mozelle left immediately for the room where she kept her spare clothes while Emile took a handkerchief to wipe the jewelry of any fingerprints. Satisfied with his work he dropped them into a small paper bag and had them ready for this employee.

A tall African-American woman with striking white hair entered Emile's office.

"You are not worried about drawing attention to yourself are you?" he asked as he handed her the bag.

"Don't worry this one was a hair dresser." She held up her palms. "Hair chemicals wore off her fingerprints off over time."

"Good thinking." He stood and kissed her quickly. "Hurry, we open soon."

…..

Doug Wiseman got off the phone with the New Orleans police department and sighed, frustrated.

"Just as I thought, Frank has to be missing for twenty four hours before they can put out a missing person report."

"I called Café Du Monde's corporate office. They said they would be willing to let us look at their surveillance tape, after we get a warrant." Said an athletic looking African-American man named Travis Hudson. "My laptop's back at the room, I'll go and see if I can hack it."

"And we can't get that warrant until Frank's officially missing." said Mark Thompson, the only detective in the bunch who was licensed for criminal investigation in Louisiana.

Three of the detectives from New Jersey that Frank met at the conference had made a table in the corner of the café a temporary ground zero. Doug Wiseman had served on the same police force as Fenton Hardy back in the late seventies and early eighties. When he'd seen Frank in one of the seminars, he swore it was like stepping back in time to their days as rookies, just without the thick sideburns and moustaches. But Frank was his father's son, no doubt about that. Wanting to catch up with the young detective about his family and tell a few humorous tales about his and Fenton's good old days on the force, he'd invited the youth and his companion to breakfast with his office mates.

When Doug and his business partners had arrived at Café Du Monde later that morning, Frank wasn't there. No big deal, really. They would have waited for a bit and if he didn't show, then they would just go on with their day and meet up with Frank and his friend at the banquet later that night. But when only Frank's friend had appeared just as their coffee and beignets arrived, with the young detective's phone in hand, he knew their plans for the day had drastically changed.

All Biff could do right now was to sit back and watch the three men do their thing. Wiseman had gone around to the patrons and wait staff with a picture of Frank from Biff's phone asking if they had seen him. Thankfully two waitresses recalled seeing Frank leave with a short middle-aged woman. According to them, he had gotten sick at the table and they took off toward Jackson Square.

Well, that made sense, since the tracking app placed Frank going in that same general direction. Biff checked the app on his phone just as Doug's phone rang again.

"He's moving! Frank's heading back through Jackson Square." Biff hopped up from the table and ran across the street to Jackson Square, Doug Wiseman hot on his heels. They stopped in the center of the square, looking around as the red dot on the screen drew closer to their location.

"Come on Frank. Come on…" But there was no Frank, just an increasingly busy park with tourist milling about. The red dot on Biff's screen continued past them.

"The tracker is going in the direction of the French Market."

"You said the tracking device was on a bracelet. Maybe whoever he went with took it from him." Wiseman suggested. They followed the signal toward the market, still not seeing any sign of Frank, or the woman fitting the description of the one he left with.

By now the French Quarter was alive with tourists bustling through the stores, boarding horse drawn carriages, and crowding the French Market. Biff ran ahead to the north end of the market to cut off the path of the dot, Doug entered the market from the south. When they met in the middle the dot was stationary. They were in an empty space between stalls of Cajun seasonings and preserved alligator heads.

"The dot stopped here, but it's just you and me." Biff fretted. Wiseman looked around the stalls. Biff squatted to look under a stall and sure enough, there were two silver bracelets under a table of bulk Mardi Gras beads. Two? For the second time that morning Biff felt like he had been punched in the gut.

…..

"Both are clean of prints. No traces of blood on either bracelet." said the deep baritone voice of Travis Hudson. He put Frank's bracelets in a sterile plastic baggie and closed up his examination kit that he had brought with him as well. Biff accepted the baggie from the detective and sat on the edge of the man's hotel bed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

It had not been a productive morning for the other detectives either. Mark didn't get very far with the owner of the perfume shop. The elderly proprietor had not seen Frank or the picture of the woman Travis had hacked from Café Du Monde's digital surveillance. Neither had any of the other store owners in the stores and restaurants on all sides on the building.

"We'll keep an eye out for anything and give you a call. There's bound to be some evidence around that PontalbaBuilding, but again, we've got to wait before we can do anything legally."

"I really do appreciate the help you've given me so far. I'll call you if Frank tries to contact me too." Doug clapped Biff on the back sympathetically as he left the hotel room.

Biff wanted to scream or hit something the entire walk back to the Ritz. Twenty four hours? Frank could be in the next state in twenty four hours. He could be dead. Where was the common sense in that? But no, there were laws and guidelines and procedures. Dark couldn't come soon enough, he'd scale the building and … Great, now he was starting to think like Amy.

The other thing that had him over a barrel was the other bracelet. How on Earth could Frank's old bracelet have made it down from New York to Louisiana? Phil had said it had been lost after the HersherPark battle. The last time Biff had seen the thing it was flying out of Frank's hand when he had attached that vampire Magnus. Maybe he could get Phil to look up the old bracelet's movement history, to see where all it had been since January. Maybe that would give them an idea of who was behind Frank's disappearance, or maybe there would be a travel pattern they could follow.

Oh no… Phil. He was going to have to call Phil and tell him what was happening. Damn it! Could this day get any worse? He looked at his watch and it was nearly noon. Phil was going to be expecting Frank's lunchtime call anytime now. Biff reached his room just as Frank's phone rang out. Biff took a deep breath before he it the answer icon.

"Biff?"

"Hey Phil." the athlete said sullenly.

"Where's Frank? Can I speak to him?"

Well, here we go…

…

Buddy was driving about ten miles over the posted speed limit, praying for all he was worth that he didn't run into any patrol cars or speed traps on the way to the airfield. Phil was typing furiously on his laptop checking the signal history of the old bracelet. Why in all these months did he not even think to check on that damn bracelet?

"Quit beating yourself up, okay Phil?"

"What?"

"You're mumbling, talking to yourself. Look, after you, Joe and Chet took off with Frank for the hospital, Papa and the rest of us torched the place to finish it off and cover up the vampire ashes. It was a mess! It's only natural to assume the thing got destroyed in the fire or got plowed under when the state finally came in and bulldozed the debris a few weeks later." Buddy rationalized.

"I… I just wish in all these months I'd taken one, just one moment to look up the thing's frequency. Maybe if I saw it had been moved…"

"Don't do that Phil! I swear to G-d I'll pull this truck over and horse-whip you. Look, I understand. You feel guilty. I've lived that too man. But quit dwelling on _should haves_ and concentrate on what you _need to do_."

Phil was quiet. He wasn't ready to admit that Buddy just might be right, because he was still despairing over Frank. He looked down at the computer screen to see that the information on the old bracelet was finally uploading.

"The bracelet moved the night after we got Frank. It went south, Alabama, Florida, stayed there for a few months." Phil continued to scroll through the dates and locations coming up on the map. "July, Virginia, then back up to New York… That was the same week Amy was gone to that fashion show. Then Louisiana, back up to New York…Oh shit! Buddy that was about the time Zeke saw that rogue Were. Oh fuck!" He picked up his phone and called Biff to relay the information.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Phil asked Biff as Buddy turned onto the gravel road that led to the private airfield.

"That we've played right into that bastard's hands!"

…..

Author's Note:

* French: Shit!


	17. Apology Not Accepted

Chapter 17: Apology Not Accepted

Jack Wayne was still going over his pre-flight checklist when Fenton and Joe Hardy pulled up in his graveled parking lot. He waved to them from the cockpit window of his Cessna and continued to make his preparations for the flight to New Orleans.

"How long until we're ready to go?" Fenton asked as Jack popped the latch for the external luggage compartment on the small plane.

"Nice to see you too Fen." Said Jack without looking up from the instrument panel.

"Sorry Jack. Got a lot on my mind."

"I'm just messin' with you." The veteran pilot said as he checked the last few gauges on his list before signing off at the bottom of his clipboard. "About thirty minutes I'd say. I want to make sure I have everything locked up good before we leave since Judy's already gone for the day."

"Well thanks for taking us on such short notice. Joe tried to get us a commercial flight, but with the tropical storm rolling up the coast causing such long delays and layovers…"

"Say no more, I'm always happy to help a friend."

The sound of a diesel truck engine made Jack turn his head toward the parking lot. Phil got out and waved to Buddy who backed up and drove off.

"Is that the rest of your party?"

"Yes. I don't know if you've met, but that's Frank's fiancée."

"Er, yeah… Don't know if anyone's told you Fen, but your son has horrible taste in women." Fenton and Joe gave Jack a searing look but the pilot held up his hands in defense. "Joking, joking!"

"Dad! Why did you call Phil?" Joe asked his father in a hushed tone. It was to Joe's understanding that Frank had wanted Phil safe and tucked away in Bayport while he was at the convention. Knowing the overprotective fiancée would have dropped everything help with the search, Joe had felt it would be safer if he contacted Phil _after_ he got to New Orleans and at least had some new information to give him. But the look on Phil's face when he spotted Joe told the younger Hardy that his good intentions had been grievously misguided.

"Phil said he wanted to help. And with his hacking skills, we can use all the help we can get!" Fenton defended as Phil approached with his suitcase and messenger bag.

"By-the-book Fenton Hardy enlisting the skills of a hacker?" Jack questioned Fenton.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Mr. Hardy said gravely then he turned to greet his future son-in-law.

"Thanks for letting me ride with you Mr. Hardy." Phil said while Fenton lifted the bags into the compartment.

"I've told you, call me Fenton. And thank you for offering to help. You can go ahead and board and get comfortable."

"Okay." Phil turned and glared at Joe before climbing into the plane. Joe followed him in and sat adjacent to him.

"Look Phil, I didn't call you because I thought Frank wanted you to stay safe! Frank told me when he was on the train that you were staying with Buddy out at the farm because of some lone wolf." Joe hissed quickly.

"That's all Frank told you?" Phil said, his stern look never wavering.

"Yes."

Phil sighed. He looked out of the window to see Fenton following Jack into the hangar, maybe he could explain quickly before the detective and pilot came back.

"It wasn't just any rogue Were. Some bastard call "The Nose", he's vicious and thinks mighty highly of himself from what I understand. He killed Stanley Wood's grandfather years ago in broad daylight. So he's not welcome to hunt in the wooded areas surrounding Bayport and out in the county. We weren't sure which of us he was targeting…"

"Wait, this is going to sound harsh, but why would a werewolf be after _you_?"

"Because of Eric. Amy thinks that as long as I'm alive Eric will see me as a threat."

"How… How does Eric figure in with this Were?"

"Biff followed the tracking software I put on his phone, it led him to the French Market and he not only found Frank's bracelet, but the old one as well." Phil could see Joe paling as he sat there listening. "I checked the tracking history on the old one, it's been all over the place, but the most damning thing is that it went down to Louisiana, then back to New York. The bracelet was in the area the same night Biff, Amy and Ezekiel found that tuft of werewolf hair belonging to The Nose. Amy thinks since her vow of protection prevents Eric from approaching Frank, that he may have asked another party to bring Frank to him."

Joe sat in silence running a hand through his hair as he processed this new information.

"He didn't bother to tell me any of this."

"Joe, I think he…"

"I know, I know. He just wanted to protect me."

…..

"Amy?"

The vampire's eyes flew open as the warm breath and quiet voice reached her ear. Amy sat up bolt straight in the bed and turned in the direction of the voice.

"Allen, what has happened?" She could tell just by the slight tremor in his voice and his pounding heart that something was not right.

"It's Frank…" Amy threw the covers back and went to the closet to get out a change of clothes.

"Keep talking!" Amy spat as she headed to her bathroom and turned on the water for a shower.

"He went on to breakfast this morning, I was still… tired… from last night, so I was going to meet up with him later…"

"You fell asleep, he left without you. You cannot lie to me Allen, I can hear your heart pound faster when you do." She called from under the running shower.

Biff continued with his story as Amy finished up in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom, naked as the day she was born. Biff turned his head away shyly but she ignored him and dressed. She glanced at the clock and stopped midway of fastening her bra.

"It is still daylight."

"Joe, Phil and Frank's dad will be here soon and I needed to wake you up to meet them. And Mr. Hardy doesn't know you're a vampire."

"Of course he does not. He will soon."

"Ugh!" Biff flopped back onto the bed, exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally. Losing Frank, telling Joe, running around the French Quarter with detectives he hardly knew, breaking the news to Phil, and knowing that in a matter of hours Fenton Hardy was going to become aware of a world he would never in his wildest dreams imagine could really exist.

"Shh… Slow down your breathing, you are going to hyperventilate if you continue." Amy sat next to Biff's head and ran her cool fingers through his short hair.

"This is my fault Amy." She did not try to correct him. The entire point of their accompanying Frank to the convention was to stay alert and keep him safe.

"I am to blame too. I kept you from getting your rest so that you could go with him. We have both failed Frank." Biff winced at the truth of the statement. "But Frank is not entirely innocent in this. He should have not trekked out alone."

"He's a bit hard headed if you hadn't noticed already." Biff fought to keep his eyes open, but they grew heavier as he was soothed by the soft fingers massaging his scalp.

"True. And we could look back and pass around the blame all day. But ultimately the fault lies with those who took him." Amy got up and turned off the bedside light that Biff had turned on while she was still sleeping. "Rest now Allen. We have a busy night ahead of us."

…..

Mozelle Ledet went about the rest of her work day smiling easily at the customers who entered La Fleur Minérale for custom blended fragrances, soaps and lotions. On the outside she was the embodiment of southern hospitality with "Sugar" and "Ya'll", and an intimate confidant, telling her patrons "Honey, just a little of this on your pulse points will drive your man wild!" followed by a sly wink. On the inside the woman's nerves were strung tighter than a tick on a beagle.

Emile was as smooth as a snake charmer with his French accent and genteel ways. Mozelle had her talents as a witch and had inherited her father's trait as a shape-shifter. Together, they had pulled off many a scam as a side business to the perfume shop. Professionally, Emile had an exquisite talent for pairing essences and oils into exotic combinations, he definitely earned his nickname. Mozelle had her education in science and training in brewing potions to create the intoxicating perfumes their customers desired.

They were a good fit as business partners. Of course over time that partnership extended to the bedroom, but Mozelle had been hurt and abused one too many times by other men to allow herself to fall in love with the charming and cunning Emile. It was just as well, because if she had fallen in love with the old wolf, she would never have been able to share him, especially with the pretty boys he had a hankering for at times. And she would never have been able to enjoy those pretty boys for herself. Yes, this was indeed a partnership with benefits.

The revelation of the circuitry inside the bracelets had put her on edge though. A young detective goes missing in a city full of detectives from all over the country… This was not one of Emile's most well thought out plans. The old fool took too much pleasure from games and setting up interesting traps. Now his newest venture was going to bite them in the butt. Yet there was so much to gain if they did manage to pull this off.

Emile returned from his dinner break and found Mozelle standing behind the counter tapping her high-heeled shoe nervously.

"What bothers you mon cher?" He asked as he placed a flirtatious hand on her bottom. The bottle-blonde huffed and turned to the man.

"You realize by morning they can put a missing person report in effect. The law could come in here asking questions again."

"Oui, so Monsieur Hardy should make a few appearances, should he not? What is that term you use sometime? Send them on a wild goose chase?" Mozelle raised a curious eyebrow as he leaned closer to her ear. "I think there is a bar in Baton Rogue that our little friend may want to visit. I hear a lot of very good looking men can be found there." Mozelle smiled, finally cottoning on to Emile's suggestion.

"I saw the way you looked him over, Emile. Tsk! Such a dirty old man." He gave her bottom a squeeze in response. "You want to tap that don't you?"  
"_Tap that_?"

"You'll figure it out." Mozelle said as she strode to the back office.

…..

Frank opened his eyes to find himself still surrounded by utter darkness. He tried to raise his hand to rub his eyes, only to find it and his other arm heavily weighed down. A cold shiver ran through his body as the memory of that morning, the café, the disorienting walk through the square, the perfume shop, the woman who transformed before his eyes, the man with the silver hair…

When he finally managed to get his shackled feet over the side of the bed and sit up, he felt dizzy and weak. Frank felt the rough metallic cuffs on his wrists and even though he couldn't see, he'd give a good guess that they were iron. A painful moan brought his attention away from his own troubles.

"Hello?" Another moan.

"Is someone there? Are you hurt?" he called out.

"Frank?"

The voice was tremulous, yet familiar. There were notes of fear and panic. Frank stood and shuffled blindly. Frank pushed on through a darkness so black he could not see his hands in front of his face, looking for the voice's owner.

"Frank! Help me!"

"I can't see! It's too dark, keep talking!" Frank yelled out to the darkness. This felt so surreal, like he had experienced all of this before. He felt around, trying to find a wall, a light switch, anything.

"Frank, you're finally here. Oh thank G-d! I thought I'd never see you again." The voice was closer now, so he must be heading in the right direction. He could feel the texture of wallpaper under his finger tips, it was old and peeling. Finally Frank's hand ran into something hard and round. There was a button in the middle. He pressed the button and the room filled with light from the lone incandescent bulb. Frank turned from the wall, eyes squinting as he adjusted to the glaring light. When he turned to see who was in the room with him, Frank threw himself against the wall, wishing he could claw his way through and get the hell out.

Eric sat there, huddled in the corner, naked. He was marked with stripes of angry, thin, red whelps, and his eyes were black from hunger. He didn't move from his spot on the single iron post bed, except to reach out to Frank. He was loosely bound with a thin, silvery chain attached to silver studded dog collar, but it was just enough to subdue him.

"Frank, please…" Eric begged in a pained, gravelly voice.

Frank's head swam and his ears began to ring as he sank to the cold cement floor, petrified. No, how could this be? The nightmare from the other week, this was it, it was happening…

"Frank, did they hurt you?" Wide eyed, Frank began to scoot back to the protection of his own bed. Eric stood up from his bed and stumbled before getting his footing back and standing to approach Frank.

"Stay away from me! Stay the fuck away!" Frank screamed.

Eric got a little more than halfway across the room before he stopped, reaching the end of his tether. Frank began to panic when he thought of Amy's protection enchantment. Eric couldn't approach Frank, but since Frank had come near him first… Oh G-d this was bad, more than bad…He was naked and vulnerable and locked in the same room as his rapist and torturer…

"Good, you're okay…" Eric said with relief and he gave the brunette a small smile.

"Okay? Okay?" Hellfire suddenly ran through Frank's blood as he stood, enraged at the man in middle of the room. "No! I am not fucking okay you son of a bitch!"

Frank charged forward, using his waning strength to ball up his fist and struck the redheaded vampire across the face. Eric's head snapped back and Frank felt his like his hand had exploded as fire and pain shot up from his knuckles up through his arm.

"Gaaah!" Frank shouted and dropped to the floor, cradling is injured hand. Eric had stumbled back and lost his footing, landing smack on his bare ass He looked up at Frank, surprised at his former boyfriend's strength.

"How'd you… You're fortifying, aren't you?"

"Fuck off!" Frank seethed through clenched teeth.

"Frank, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Emile, he was going to help me look for you. We had everything worked out so that you and I could be together again. And then last night, I don't know what got into him but he went nuts! Started flogging me with this silver chain-whip and then Mozelle got me from behind with the collar and chain…"

"Shut up! I don't give a rat's ass about your sex life!" Frank crawled back over to his bed and sat down, thankful Eric could not reach him there. He looked down at his hand which was rapidly swelling. Damn it! Why'd he have to lose it? Now he's added an injury to his situation. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Let me look and see if you broke it. If… if you're taking vampire blood, it'll heal up pretty quick, but you don't want it to heal the wrong way. I can see if I can straighten…"

"What part of shut up don't you understand?" Frank spat. He finally managed to wiggle his fingers and work his thumb, just a little, but oh damn it hurt.

"I'm sorry." Eric went back to his bed and looked at Frank. Anger bubbled up inside of Frank again.

"Not sorry enough. You have no idea, none, of what I've been through these last eight months because of you!" Frank stood on wobbly legs, still shaking with anger and pain.

"You left! Magnus was going to kill my brother! He almost killed Amy!" Frank pointed to his scarred leg. "Two surgeries! I'm still taking physical therapy! I have nightmares about what you did to me, what you took from me! And I have to take medication so that my body does not reject the fucking metal rod in my leg that will be there the rest of my life!" Frank stopped to take a breath. "And you're _sorry_."


	18. Throwing Daggers

Chapter 18: Throwing Daggers

**Before you read: The following contains dubious and/or nonconsensual material. Reader discretion is advised.**

Fenton stared straight ahead, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlocked.

"Dad?" Silence.

"I think he's in shock." Biff whispered to Joe.

"Can I get you some water Fenton?" Phil asked. But the Hardy patriarch remained quiet.

"I think maybe your father needs a few minutes to absorb everything you have told him." Amy said quietly. Fenton's dark eyes darted in her direction.

"I think I've had plenty of time to wrap my brain around this." Fenton stood abruptly and walked over to the window to peer down to the street below, but stopped before he touched the curtain. "Right, sunset."

"Believe me Dad, I had a hard time swallowing all of this back in January..." Joe's voice trailed off as Fenton shot his youngest son a look that clearly translated to "stop talking NOW!"

"Why don't we order up some dinner while we try to formulate a plan?" Biff suggested, suddenly remembering that with everything that happened today he had failed to stop and eat.

"Room service is too expensive." Fenton snapped.

"Your dinner will be on my bill Mr. Hardy. I insist." Amy offered. Fenton looked at her and then shook his head.

"I need some air." Joe's father left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Should someone go with him?" Phil asked, concerned with the odd look that was on Mr. Hardy's face when he left.

"No, I know that look, that is his "beyond pissed" face." Joe said as he slumped on Biff's bed and ran a hand through his hair again.

"You're going to snatch yourself bald doing that." Phil commented and Joe quickly removed his hand from his hair.

Amy looked at her watch and turned to Biff.

"If you are going to eat, go ahead and order your dinner, pick something out that Mr. Hardy will eat too. I am going to call a few of my friends who kept watch on the hotel last night and ask them to meet me on the roof after dark." Amy then went into Frank's closet and pulled out his laundry bag of worn clothes. She heard Phil make a weak noise in his throat at the sight of Frank's rumpled cotton shirt. "So they can get his scent Phillip." The raven haired boy nodded in understanding.

"I know, I know…" Phil said in a shaky voice. He excused himself to step into the bathroom and closed the door.

"I'm going with you two tonight." Joe insisted, his jaw set in grim determination.

"Like anyone could have stopped you." Biff said as he sat down beside his friend on the bed.

An hour later Fenton walked back into the room. His face was less tense and pinched than it was when he left. But Joe knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. His father was like that. Long after he and his brother had gotten too old to spank or sit in the corner for their misdeeds, their father would walk away, calm down to sort it out, and then return to hand down the appropriate punishment. Suddenly Joe felt he was twelve all over again. Funny how one look from your parents can make you feel so small, no matter how old you get.

"Alright, I think… I think I can understand why you felt justified in not telling me the truth months ago. That doesn't make it hurt any less that you couldn't trust me with this information, no matter how out of this world it appears." Fenton said.

"We were trying to protect you and Mom too, Dad." Joe interjected. Fenton looked like he was going to say something else but stopped. He sat down on the settee near the window and sighed heavily.

"Alright son, well, all of you…I'm obviously… out of my element here." Mr. Hardy began. "So we'll try it your way. Where do we begin?"

…..

Frank stared up at the ceiling above from his place on the bed. There were no floor joists, or pipes to be seen like in your usual basements. Instead it was an arched cement formation. The peeling wallpaper exposed dingy grey cement walls, not cinder block, and not the brick and mortar construction one would expect to find in a building that was build almost two hundred years ago. Based on the clean lines and the out-dated wallpaper, this was definitely a more modern construction, at least from the middle of the last century. There was a small bathroom, whose door was missing, but there looked to be a roughed out shower stall, toilet and an old fashioned sink with exposed plumbing. There were sunken built-in shelves in Eric's corner of the room. Maybe at some point this could have been a fallout shelter.

"I've missed you." Eric said in a hurt voice. Frank ignored him and rolled over to face his own wall, his chains clacked noisily as he did so. His bonds did not have him tethered to the wall like Eric was. He was free to shuffle about the room as he pleased. But for now Frank preferred the comfort and security of his own bed. And he could have cared less right now if all Eric could see was his bare back and bottom.

"Not a day went by that I didn't think about you."

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"I love you Frank."

"But I don't love you, Eric. I'm in love Phil." Frank sat up.

"What can he give you that I can't?"

"With him I can have a _life_. Not an _existence_. That's what he can give me. I've asked Phil to marry me Eric. I. Asked. Him. We're getting married this spring. We have a future planned. We want to have a family. A family that includes children, raising them, and watching them grow. I want to grow old with Phil. I want his face to be the last one I see when I leave this world." Frank closed his eyes for just a moment, thinking back to the look on Phil's face as he hovered over Frank the last time they made love.

"I would lay down my life for that man. I have, I've got the scars to prove it! And I would do it all over again. He's done the same for me. Phil proved it by coming to rescue me with Joe and my friends. He's been by my side through every painful step of my therapy.

That's what love is Eric! Putting the ones you love before yourself. Putting their needs before your own... Because of your needs, your wants, I saw a therapist once a week for four months for what you did to me. For _raping_ me! For forcing me to have sex with you for fear you would hurt the people I love. You hurt me Eric! Not just physically, but mentally. I…I still check in with her once a month. We go over the diary I keep of the dreams and nightmares I have. Do you remember what nightmares are like Eric? Ezekiel told me you vampires don't dream." Frank stood and shuffled closer.

"Let me remind you. When you and I dated, you told me you had nightmares about your mother passing away. You had nightmares about your father beating the shit out of you. About the bullies you had in high school when you came out.

I have nightmares about you and me in that prison of a mansion and you are ripping me open from the inside out and burying your fucking teeth into me!" Frank's chest was still heaving with emotion when he finally stopped talking.

They heard a clicking sound and then a heavy "clunk" when the locking mechanism of the door released. His captors came down the stairs. The man was toting a wicker tray with a few lidded food containers. Frank could smell the warm food within and his stomach gave a protest of hunger. The woman (Montana? Gizelle?) followed him, but she was wearing the clothes the brunette had worn into the shop, down to his deck shoes. Frank sat down and covered himself with his pillow, not nearly as comfortable with his nakedness in front of strangers as Eric appeared to be.

"Emile?" Eric struggled to get up from his bed, hissing when the chain touched his skin as he moved. "Please, what has gotten in to you? Why have you chained us up like this? I thought you wanted to help me." Eric pleaded.

"Eric, I am shocked! You wanted me to bring Frank to you, and I did. My end of our arrangement is fulfilled. Yours on the other hand…" Emile set the tray of food at the foot of Frank's bed.

"Who are you?" Frank asked boldly.

"Quoi? Eric has not told you?" Emile looked down to see Frank's red and swollen hand and the flush of emotion across his face.

"Mon dieu! I would have thought this to be a happy reunion. I must admit I was surprised not to see the two of you in a lover's embrace when I came down here. My name is Emile Louvel. This is my good friend Mozelle Ledet." The woman gave a small curtsy.

"What do you want with me?"

"To reunite you with your old lover. He said he would do _anything_ to get you back. So that is what I have done. But my dear Mozelle has discovered that there is more to you than meets the eye. And though I am a hopeless romantic, I am never one to turn away a _golden_ opportunity."

He touched Frank's face and turned it just so, then to the other side. His eyes lit up and he smiled greedily.

"Ahhh… Yes. You will prove quite valuable to me." Emile whispered huskily in his ear and then ran his tongue over the shell of Frank's ear. Disgusted by the man's advances, Frank pushed and struggled to get away from him, knocking into the tray of food and upsetting the contents. Emile sighed and picked up the plastic containers that fell on the floor.

"That, mon ami, was quite unnecessary."

Emile suddenly turned back to Frank and backhanded him across the face. The force of the blow knocked Frank across the bed and his head hit the cement wall. Frank saw stars flash in front of his eyes and his head felt like it was going to explode. His ears rung loudly and it was a few minutes before he could make sense of what was going on around him. He heard Eric shouting, Emile speaking angrily, and then the tray of piping hot food was lifted from the foot of the bed.

"Ah Shit! Emile, not the face!" Mozelle cried out. Emile huffed and took the food back upstairs. Mozelle moved over to Frank to check him out.

"Damn, now I'm gonna have a bump on my head too, but you're not bleeding. Oh well, at least your hair's thick enough to cover it." Mozelle placed a hand on Frank's bare chest. Frank tried to shy away but the woman yanked on his shackles to pull him closer.

"Hush, Lamb. This won't hurt me one bit." She smiled and as her hand came in contact with his skin again, a tingling sensation overcame Frank. Every fiber of his being felt like it was vibrating, shaking and he could not control the way his hands and knees trembled. His toes began to curl and he shut his eyes, gritting his teeth waiting for the sensation that he was a living, breathing earthquake to end. When Mozelle finally released him, Frank could still feel the aftershocks.

"Wha…what d-did you…you d-do tah… to muh…mme?" He opened his eyes and gasped at what he saw before him, his own mirror image.

"How do I look? Do these shorts make my butt look big?" Mozelle giggled. She turned to Eric who was glaring at the shape-shifter. "Oh come on, Eric. Don't tell me that you've never fantasized about lil' ole Frank here having a twin. You know how much fun threesomes can be." She winked in his direction. Eric looked past her to check on Frank.

"Frank? Are you…" But Frank glared and the vampire shut up.

Emile came back down the stairs, his composure back to his suave, cheerful self. He held Frank's wallet in his hand and handed it off to Mozelle.

"Ma chérie, you look good enough to eat." He grabbed Mozelle around the waist and kissed her deeply. Frank had to turn his head to keep himself from gagging. That was not an image he wanted to commit to memory. He heard Eric growl deeply in his throat as the vampire watched the partners' intimate display. Emile broke from the kiss and swatted Mozelle behind playfully.

"Have fun mon cher. Bring home someone pretty." He said as Mozelle smiled and hurried up the stairs.

Alone with his captives, Emile walked over to Frank and grabbed the chain that linked his shackles. Frank struggled and tried to pull away as the man dragged him over to the middle of the room. But he could steadily feel his strength waning and was no match for the surprisingly strong man. The werewolf withdrew a penknife from his pocket and swiftly pierced the skin on the inside of Frank's hip, nicking his brachial artery. Frank screamed out in pain and tried to put pressure on wound despite the awkwardness of the clunky manacles.

"Emile! What are you doing? You're hurting him!" Eric's eyes widened in shock, but already the captivating smell of Frank's blood was drawing him in.

"No Eric. I am merely teaching young Frank a valuable lesson in manners. When food is set before you, you graciously accept it. You are hungry Eric. Show him how a grateful guest is to behave. Feed and then you will heal him." The werewolf commanded.

Eric hesitated, recalling the look on Frank's face when he was pouring his heart out earlier.

"I would hurry if I were you. If he dies I will personally end your debt of servitude sooner than our arrangement entails." Emile hissed.

By now Frank had dropped to the cold, hard floor. Blood was trickling down past his fingers and painting the inside of his leg, his groin and dripping down onto the smooth cement under him.

Eric dropped down to his knees in front Frank.

"Frank, please… you'll bleed to death if I don't." he begged. But Frank looked up to him with unfocused, yet hate-filled eyes.

"I… can live…with that." He managed to say while his head spun and pounded from his injury and blood loss. Eric shook his head sadly.

"Then I'm sorry…" The vampire pushed Frank's shoulder so that the brunette lost his balance, which did not require much effort at this point. His hands inadvertently uncovered the wound as he fell back and Eric latched on to the puncture. Frank could feel the painful suction from Eric's greedy mouth. Yet thanks to the open wound, the vampire's teeth did not rupture his skin.

"No…no…" Frank began to weep helplessly and his knees shook violently. He covered his face with his bloodied hands to block out the world, to block out this moment, the beginning of a new nightmare. Frank then felt Eric's tongue swiping across the wound and the weird sensation of the tissue knitting back together.

Eric licked up the blood that had smeared onto the inside of Frank's leg, his balls and cock. He grabbed Frank's shackled hands and licked them clean. Then Eric took his face in his hands used his tongue to clean Frank's face of the blood and salty tears that had run down the sides of his head.

"It's okay Frank. I'm done. I'm done..." Eric tried to soothe and brushed a tear away with his thumb. Frank was done too. His body and his mind had had enough. Eric saw his eyes roll back and his trembling body finally went limp.

"Frank!" But he could tell by Frank's still strong heart beat that he had merely fainted. A low groan reached Eric's ears and he looked up.

Emile had made his self comfortable on Frank's bed. Really comfortable. He had been pleasuring himself while Eric had fed and cleaned Frank. Emile caught Eric staring at him, mouth slack in shock.

"Quoi? You know I like to watch. Are you not going to finish?"

"No." Eric growled, lifting Frank and holding him protectively to his chest. Emile shrugged and tucked himself back into his pants.

"Suit yourself. Enjoy the time that you have together." Emile turned off the light and climbed back up the stairs, leaving Eric to wonder what he had meant by that.

….

**Author's Note:**

I've got to get something off my chest because it's been bothering me.

When I wrote SN, Hersher State Park was a product of my imagination based on bits and pieces of state parks I researched on the internet. That said, since I am writing about a building that does exist in real life, I have no clue whether or not the Pontalba Buildings in New Orleans have basements or not. I've researched Google, and have come up with nothing to confirm or deny this. It is probably safe to say they don't, due to the level of the water table in that part of Louisiana.

I had initially wanted to stow Frank and Eric in an attic or upper level of the building, but that might make it too easy for roof-hopping Biff and Amy to locate them.

I say all this simply to cover my butt incase any of you are NOLA residents or have been there and know more about those buildings, since it's been well over ten years since I've been there.

Whew, I feel better now.


	19. A Wild Time in Baton Rouge

Chapter 19: A Wild Time in Baton Rouge

_"Where's your sister?" Frank asked as he entered the kitchen. A sandy haired youth was doing homework at the kitchen table and nibbling on some string cheese. He had the earbuds to his iPod in his ears and was oblivious to his father's presence. Frank walked up behind him and flicked on the cord to the one in the boy's right ear. The youth jumped in surprise, but smiled when he saw Frank standing there._

_"Daaaad!" _

_"David, I asked you, where is Allison?"_

_"Moping on the back porch." David stuck the bud back in his ear and went back to flaying the piece of mozzarella in his hands. _

_Frank walked to the French doors that led to the back deck and saw Allison sitting on steps. Her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing the UNC sweatshirt her boyfriend had given her. _

_"Are you okay baby doll?" Frank asked as he sat down beside his daughter._

_"Men are jerks." Allison declared as she wiped her nose with the wadded up tissue in her hands. Frank nudged her shoulder with his._

_"Ah c'mon. Not all men." _

_"Okay, straight men are jerks."_

_"Um, that's not where I was going with this Allison. Do you want to tell me what happened?" _

_"Landon was supposed to call me Saturday night. We were going to have a web date..." _

_Frank did recall Allison bouncing around the house Saturday, all excited because Landon was supposed to call and they were going to set up their web cams and have a web date and eat popcorn and Dad and Tatty you can come in and say hi to Landon but knock first… Sunday morning Allison had come down to breakfast moody and snappish with David. She wasn't in the mood to talk and complained of a headache and that she was having her "girl time" and was going to curl up in her bed the rest of the day. All three men in the Hardy-Cohen household gladly gave Allison a wide berth when she was having her "girl time." _

_"… and then some girl picked up his phone and said he was down the hall in shower. What was a girl doing answering his cell phone in the first place? And who takes a shower at three in the afternoon? It's Monday, he didn't have football practice! I told her to have him call me back and she said "Sure" and hung up before she even got my name!" Allison dissolved into tears and Frank wrapped his arms around her. _

_Frank was torn. One part of him wanted to hold and coddle his hurting child. The other part wondered how long it would take to drive down to Chapel Hill, North Carolina and throttle the jock for hurting his little girl. But common sense prevailed and the detective in Frank told him not to jump to conclusions. There had to be an explanation. Maybe it was Landon's roommate's girlfriend who answered. And even though it was sweater weather in New York, it was still hot down in North Carolina, maybe the boy wanted to take a shower before beginning his homework for the night. That was certainly Frank's habit when he was in college. But what would explain Landon not calling Saturday night, or not thinking to call and apologize to Allison on Sunday?_

_"Did…Did anyone ever hurt you like that Dad?" Allison asked tearfully._

_"Oh, I've had my feelings hurt plenty of times."_

_"But has someone you loved ever hurt you this deeply? Made you feel like they have just cut you to the core?" Frank sighed. He and Phil never really spoke about some of the hellish times they lived through in the years before the children came along in front of Allison and David. They didn't want to frighten them._

_"Yes, long ago someone I had once loved very much hurt me in away no one should ever be hurt. This person didn't cheat on me, but yes, it was very bad."_

_"Did you ever forgive them?" Allison looked up at her father. Her blue eyes were reddened from crying._

_"I…" They could hear the phone ring from inside the house. David stepped outside with the cordless phone in his hand._

_"Allison, its Landon." Allison wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and hopped up to accept the phone from her brother as she skipped off for the den._

_"So Dad, did you ever forgive him?" David asked._

_"I di..."_

"Frank? Frank, please open your eyes, please…" Frank felt his lids open, but he saw nothing.

"Ca…can't see…" Frank slurred.

"Emile turned out the lights again. Don't worry, I can see though." Eric said.

"Thas a shtupid thing ta say. Of course you can see… you're a vampire…" Eric laughed lightly.

"Well, at least your brain still works. Sit up a bit and drink this."

"Drin what?" Frank could feel Eric's hand come near his face and then cold and wet flesh touched his lips. He could smell the coppery odor of blood and he turned his head away in repulsion.

"C'mon Frank! I don't know what Emile and Mozelle have planned but you need your strength."

"Doesn't matter… shackles…made of iron."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Witch said I was sensitive to iron." The tad bit if blood that had Eric managed to get passed Frank's lips must have been helping to clear the fog, because Frank wasn't slurring as much, although he still wasn't making much sense to Eric.

"Frank please! If you won't do it for me, do it for Phil! Think about how hurt and alone he'll be if something happened to you!" Eric wanted to bite his own tongue off for using Phil as Frank's motivation, but sure enough it seemed to work and Frank weakly touched Eric's arm to draw it closer to his mouth.

In another time and place this would have been the hottest thing Eric had ever seen or felt, Frank's lips sucking on his skin, drinking in Eric's most vital essence. But he could not allow himself to become aroused now. The last thing Emile said to him still rung in his ears. What did the old wolf have planned? Was he going to separate them after all these months of searching? Unfortunately Emile was in a position to do whatever he wanted, even without the physical bonds Eric wore right now.

Frank pulled Eric's arm away from his mouth and sat up. Despite the absolute darkness, Frank's eyes seemed more focused.

"Thank you Eric. I'm sorry I…" Frank began.

"Don't worry about it." Eric yawned and rubbed his eyes, it had to be well after sunrise by now. He had spent nearly all night watching after Frank, looking for any signs that he would wake up. Finally Frank started mumbling in is sleep, saying things that didn't make sense… Eric helped Frank to his feet and turned him toward his bed.

"About twelve paces straight ahead, careful now."

"Thanks." Frank dragged himself forward until his shin hit the side of the bed and he lay back down. He felt like he could go back to sleep for another night's worth. Frank heard Eric climb into his own bed, yawning again and settling down as the day claimed him.

Frank had been alone with his thoughts for about an hour when Mozelle came down the stairs. Her arms were laden with the wicker tray from last night and a bundle of something under her arm. She turned on the light and Frank had to close his eyes to protect them from the brightness.

"Mornin' sunshine! Got breakfast for you." She set the tray on the end of the bed and withdrew the bundle from under her arm.

"Gotcha some soap, a little bottle of shampoo and a towel. After you eat breakfast Emile wantso you to take a shower. He wants you shiny as a new penny, you're gonna have a visitor later today."

"Who?"

"Well now if I told you that'd take all the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" She glanced over at Eric who was fast asleep then back to Frank. "Lemme know if you need help gettin' your back." She winked and then started back up the stairs. Frank regarded the tray of food. If this was Saturday morning, then he hadn't eaten since Thursday night. If his stomach had been displeased with him before, it was making its presence known now.

"Alright, alright." Frank muttered. He opened the plastic containers one by one. Well, at least his captors didn't want him to go hungry. There was one container of grits with butter, another of scrambled eggs, link sausage, biscuits, a pint of milk and a cup of juice. Everything was still piping hot and the drinks were still chilled, but there was just one problem, no utensils.

"What is with these people?" Frank wondered out loud. He dug into his breakfast as neatly as he could with his fingers. Afterward he shuffled to the bathroom for the shower. He didn't know how they expected him to wash thoroughly with shackles on, it wasn't like he would be able to reach everywhere. But after some struggle he did feel a little cleaner. Back on his bed, he used his towel to drape over his torso as best he could to provide a little warmth. The basement was chilly despite the humid weather outside. The light above provided him some comfort in this dismal place.

…

"I would like to report a missing person. My son disappeared yesterday morning, and it's been twenty four hours since anyone as seen or heard from him..." Fenton Hardy and Biff Hooper went to the New Orleans Police station on Royal Street Saturday morning to put in for an official missing person report. The station in the heart of the French Quarter was packed full and busy with hung-over revelers and petty criminals. Fenton and Biff had been in line for almost an hour now and finally had their turn at the captain's desk. Biff had decided to go along with Fenton since he had the most information to provide the police with. They really had nothing else to go on.

The search from the night before had been a bust. The only thing of relevance that happened was that Amy could sense Eric was in the area for the first time since she had arrived in the CrescentCity, but even that was only a vague feeling. And that could only confirm their worst fear, that he was involved somehow. The four vampires she enlisted to sniff out Frank could only detect him in the areas he had already visited, like the convention center and the café. Joe and Phil searched on street level, showing people a picture of Frank. Still nothing.

Fenton had decided in the morning to go through with enlisting the help of the local police. He and his sons had been kidnapped or held hostage at one point or another in the past. It was an occupational hazard. But Fenton always felt like he knew his enemy, how they ticked, what their motives may be. But this was beyond him, and he could use all the help he could get, whether it was from regular boys in blue or pointy-teethed children of the night.

"Oh! I've seen him before! That's Cutie Pie!" A falsetto voice drew Fenton's attention away from filling out the paperwork the captain had given him. He turned to the left to see a tall, broad shouldered woman with narrow hips standing there at the counter, paying a fine for Lord knows what. She looked like she was still wearing heavy and garish makeup from the night before as it was smeared in some places and fading in others. Her hair looked a little… off kilter. And was that…stubble on her chin?

"I'm sorry?" Fenton asked hesitantly. Biff tried to step between Mr. Hardy and the… woman… to tell her to mind her own business, but she pointed to the photograph Fenton held in his hand.

"I've seen him before! Last night, up in Baton Rouge."

"I'm sorry ma'am. But this is my son, he went missing yesterday morning…" before Fenton could finish the woman pulled her cell phone out of her purse and scrolled through the photo gallery.

"See?" Fenton looked through several pictures of someone who looked just like Frank having a boisterous time at what looked like a bar with a wild party atmosphere.

"Those are the clothes Frank was wearing when he left yesterday morning." Biff said over Fenton's shoulder.

"Where were these taken Miss?" asked Frank's father as he scrolled through picture after picture of his son doing things like sitting in another man's lap, sitting in a group of other overly glamorized woman drinking a cocktail, dancing on the bar shirtless, or dancing with a pole on a stage in only his underwear. As much as Fenton wanted to "unsee" these images, the one of Frank pole dancing confirmed his identity because there were the surgical scars on the outside of his right thigh.

"At DyNasty's on highway ninety, just south of the city limits." With that Biff stepped away from the woman and Fenton to call Joe.

"If I give you my number, would you kindly call me if you or any of your friends see him or have any information on where he went?" Fenton handed the woman one of his business cards which she readily accepted.

"Ooo…a calling card. Fancy." She batted her eyes at Fenton and smiled coyly. "So, did the apple fall far from the tree?"

"Excuse me?" Fenton was confused to say the least. Biff walked back up to the two of them in time to hear the last bit of their conversation.

"He's married." Biff snapped. The woman sighed in disappointment.

"Too bad. The cute ones are always either married or straight." An officer handed her a receipt and she sashayed away.

"Well, she was interesting." Fenton said as he returned to his paperwork.

"_She_ was a man Mr. Hardy."

…..

Joe and Phil entered the DyNasty night club shortly before lunchtime. The place had just opened for the arrival of its Saturday crowd, which so far consisted of a weather-worn elderly man smoking cigarettes and munching on peanuts while he nursed a beer. A balding, rotund man in a black T-shirt that was way too tight for him stood behind the bar cutting up fruit for cocktails. The word "DyNasty" was stretched out across his chest and stomach in gold letters and the name "Dickie" was embroidered over the left breast.

"'Afternoon boys. What ya'll have?" The bartender asked when they approached the bar.

"Yes, um, Dickie, we were wondering if you have seen this man." Joe handed the bartender his phone with a picture of Frank on the display. The bartender nodded when he saw the picture.

"Sho nuff*. He was in  
here last night. Cute lil ole thang." Dickie smiled. The bartender saw the distressed look on Phil's face and his smile dropped.

"Why, what's wrong? He won't found dead was he?" Phil blanched but Joe recovered quicker.

"He's my brother and he has gone missing. Could you tell us anything about what time he came in, left, or who he was with?"

"Ah shit, I was busier than a one legged man in a ass kickin' contest last night. I ain't got no idea. But you can look at our camera tape." He turned to his sole customer. "Gabe, you good?"

"Jus leave da game on." said the withered man as he tamped out a spent cigarette in the ashtray.

"Ah ight, ya'll c'mon." Dickie led them to a room in the back where four small televisions were atop four different video recorders. It was not the most sophisticated set up, but it was better than nothing. Dickie was nice enough to bring them a couple of sodas, on the house, as they scanned through hours of video, and finally they spotted Frank.

"What the fuck?" Joe mumbled to himself as he watched his normally introverted brother work the crowd.

"This isn't happening…" Phil said, feeling his stomach flip as he watched his fiancée dance provocatively with other men, other women, other men dressed as women… "Joe, something's not right. I mean, that just can't be Frank." The next video tape Joe slipped in to the player showed Frank on the stage, giving a striptease and pole dancing. "_My_ Frank can't move like that Joe! Even on the vampire blood he's not that… _flexible_!" Phil stood up and paced the room. "I'm going to get my laptop out of the rental and check his credit card and bank records. Surely they didn't let him in here for free. Maybe there's a paper trail to follow."

"Alright Phil." Joe said softly. It was hard enough for him to watch his big brother act so… trampy? He could only imagine how Phil was handling it. If that had been Vanessa on the video tape throwing herself at other people like that… Joe's head began to throb just thinking about it.

Joe hit the fast forward button and continued to go over the tapes until he saw Frank leave the club. The last tape was of the parking lot, as customers entered and exited. He saw a Volkswagon Bug pull up and Frank got out. Hours later Frank came back out to the parking lot with another man. Joe was thankful Phil was not in the room for that because the taller, more muscular man hoisted Frank up against the hood of the car and made out with him. Several minutes later the mystery man re-entered the club and Frank got in the Bug and drove off. Joe rewound the tape several times until he had the scene stopped just right to get a good look at the license plate. Joe wrote down the numbers from the plate and headed back out to the bar.

"Dickie, could I borrow those tapes?"

"I'm sorry but my boss is already pissed that I let ya'll back there. He said if you need them you need to go see the judge." Dickie looked sincerely apologetic about the situation, and Joe had figured a warrant would probably be needed to get the tapes.

"Fair enough. Thank you for your time and thanks for the drinks." Joe shook Dickie's hand and left the club.

Phil was in the rental car with the engine and the air conditioner running.

"I've got a plate. He arrived and left alone in a VW beetle." Joe decided to spare Phil the other details.

"Alright, I'll run them through in a bit. It looks like Frank stopped at a McDonald's on the way up here last night. It was the McDonald's just off of ninety, we passed that on the way up here. This doesn't make sense Joe. You saw all those fast food places when we turned off the highway. All those choices and Frank went to a McDonald's."

"Frank hates McDonald's! You're right. He'd never go there if he had a choice… I wonder if he was under the influence of something. That has to explain some of the choices he's made."

Joe buckled his seat belt and put the car in gear.

"Well I tell you what, you run those plates and maybe we'll be a little closer to finding Frank and finding out what the hell is going on with him."

…

**Author's Note:**

*Sho nuff: US Southern for "Sure enough."

Also, I have nothing against McDonald's, they make very tasty McNuggets.


	20. Worth

Chapter 20: Worth

**Before you read: The following contains dubious and/or nonconsensual material. Reader discretion is advised.**

Phil wished more than anything that he had been able to bring his computer from home with him to New Orleans. He was trying to make do with his laptop, but it was taking forever. He ran his hands over his face wearily. Phil took a moment away from the screen and to take in his surroundings. The door to the adjoining room was closed while Amy slept. Fenton was sitting on the other bed talking to his wife quietly, updating her on what he knew, or didn't know, so far, careful to spare her of the supernatural details of Frank's disappearance. Everyone agreed it was better and safer to keep Laura and Aunt Gertrude in the dark.

Joe had the curtains to their room open and stared out at the view below, lost in thought, trying to work out the information they had gathered so far. Of course, how does one make sense out of nonsense? Even though he had seen Frank dancing and posturing on those tapes with his own eyes, it was still like watching a stranger. A stranger in his brother's skin.

Biff was sacked out on the bed that Phil was sitting on. Phil knew Biff was made of tougher stuff, even without the benefits of a vampire blood diet. But the stress was getting to Biff. He wasn't sleeping well when he did get a chance to sleep. He wasn't eating much. Biff had taken Phil aside and confessed about Thursday night with Amy, explaining why he had been so tired Friday morning. If he was looking for forgiveness, he didn't get it. But the athlete said he just needed to tell someone, and despite Biff's slip in judgment, Phil heard him out. That's what friends do. And Phil could see by the determined look on Biff's face that the taller boy wanted to make things right.

The raven haired boy glanced back down at his laptop to see a flashing alert on the screen. Finally! He opened the window and the mug shot of a blonde haired woman with an inch worth's of black roots popped up. Mozelle Delta Ledet, age thirty one, resident of Metaire, Louisiana. The woman had a wrap sheet a yard long, and was indeed the registered owner of the Volkswagon Joe saw on the tape. Phil glanced over her criminal record, but most of it was petty crimes and misdemeanors, the occasional possession of an unknown substance. She was on parole, and the last known place of employment was La Fleur Minérale. Hold the phone!

"Biff!" Phil nudged the boy. "Biff, wake up!" Biff was asleep on his stomach. He yawned and rolled halfway over to look up at Phil.

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember the name of that shop you said the bracelet's tracker first led you to?"

"Mmm, something French. La Mineral Flower? It was a perfume shop."

"In the Pontalba, right?"

"Yeah."

Phil was tapping furiously to run a search for perfume shops in the Pontalba Buildings with the key words Flower and Mineral.

"Bingo! The owner of the vehicle Frank drove to that night club is a Mozelle Ledet whose last known place of employment is La Fleur Minérale." Biff was sitting up now and slipping on his shoes. Joe grabbed the keys to the rental car and Phil closed his laptop.

"I think we need to pay Ms. Ledet a visit. Dad we're…" Joe stopped, his phone was ringing. He glanced at the caller I.D. to see that it was his mother-in-law calling. He answered the call impatiently.

"Andrea, hey I'm just heading… What?" Joe paled and sat on the end of the bed his father was sitting on.

"Laura, hold on a second... Joe, what is it?" Fenton leaned forward.

"Andrea's had to rush Vanessa to the hospital, she's spotting." Joe said.

"Laura, Vanessa's at the hospital. Okay, call me later." Fenton hung up and looked at Joe. "Your mom's on her way over there." Joe nodded and returned to his call. Biff glanced at Fenton.

"Phil and I will go on and check out that lead." Fenton nodded.

"I'll stay here with Joe." The look on Fenton's face was as lost as his son's. His oldest son was missing, and now the life of his grandchild and daughter-in-law were at risk as well.

Phil and Biff set out on foot, not wanting to waste time waiting for the valet to bring the rental around. When they finally reached Jackson Square and the Pontalba, they were relieved to find the perfume shop was still open. The door's bell dinged as they entered the store and Phil's nose was assaulted by various exotic smells coming from every corner of the store. An older man with silver hair came to the front, a warm and genteel smile on his face as he greeted his customers.

"Bonjour, gentlemen, and welcome. You look to find a fragrance for your lovely ladies, oui?" He approached Biff and Phil with his hand outstretched. Biff gave the proffered hand a hearty shake and got straight to business.

"We're looking for Mozelle Ledet. Is she working today?"

"Miss Ledet took a late lunch. She will be back in about an hour. Is there something I may help you with?" But as luck would have it, a familiar blonde came out of the back room just then. The older man turned around, slightly surprised, to face the woman.

"Ah… Dear Mozelle, I thought you had left for lunch."

"I left my cell phone on the counter." She said and started back for the back room.

"Excuse me, Miss Ledet? Could I ask you a few quick questions?" Phil stepped forward.

"I suppose…" Mozelle said hesitantly. She glanced at Emile but could not read the look on his face.

"Where did you eat dinner last night?"

"I went through a drive thru, McDonald's or Burger King."

"Has your car been reported stolen?"

"No!" She seemed surprised by such a question.

"Did you loan it out to anyone?"

"No."

"Well, your car was captured on video last night at a night club in Baton Rouge. A club called DyNasty…"

"Are you a cop?"

"No." Phil said.

"Then unless you produce a badge or come in here with a real cop, this conversation is over! I think you and your friend need to leave."

"Thank you for your time." Biff added and gave Emile's hand another shake as they left the shop.

"Well, I'm no detective, but she seems guilty as hell." Biff said.

"I blew that big time. How do Frank and Joe interrogate people so smoothly?" Phil complained, frustrated that in his eagerness to find Frank he'd gotten thrown out of the only place where all the facts seemed to overlap.

"Don't beat yourself up so. She said more just by her actions than with her words. If she had nothing to hide, she could have just answered your questions without getting so defensive." Maybe Biff had a point. As Frank would have said, Mozelle Ledet was a person of interest.

….

Emile flipped the sign to "Closed" and locked the door. Frank's visitor would be arriving soon, and he did not need anymore slip ups today. If Delebon's second was satisfied, they may be able to expedite negotiations and finish their business later this evening. If that was the case then he could tie up his lose ends here in New Orleans and head somewhere less humid, but still warm and comfortable. This would be his last deal for a very long time. Emile was getting too old for this. The bracelets, Mozelle's car, and now that he thought about it, that dark haired boy was Frank's lover. He remembered seeing him in that house in New York. It looked like Emile was not the only one with lose ends that needed to be burned.

…..

Frank was sitting up in his bed with his back to the wall. He had grown tired of lying around so he sat there staring at the blood stain on the floor where he had bled. Frank he heard the door at the top of the stairs unlock and creak open. The lights in the basement went out. There must be another switch at the top of the staircase. Two sets of heavy footsteps could be heard descending, and there was a light tapping sound now too.

"There my friend, I think Delebon will be pleased. But you may look for yourself. Have a taste if you like. Oh? You don't need to fear the vampire, he is subdued by the silver chains, and he is under my control." Frank heard Emile speak to whoever had now joined them in the basement. How in the world could a human have a vampire under their control? He knew about vampires controlling humans, he had experienced that for himself unfortunately. But how did they put the shoe on the other foot? Maybe that witch Mozelle had something to do with it. If witches could make magical deeds that could keep creatures away from homes, maybe there were other contracts they could create.

Frank felt a presence in front of him and then a leather clad hand touched his face. His face was turned one way, then the next. He heard the person before him clicking his tongue sympathically.

"Only half." Spoke a quiet voice with an English accent.

"I'm sorry?" Emile asked.

"Only half, he is not whole." Mr. English Accent didn't sound like he had a very good grip on the English language.

"But…"

"Damaged. Scars are many."

"I do believe I had informed Delebon of those details…"

"Still, Delebon shall be pleased. Different. Exotic." He released Frank's face. He said something to Frank that sounded like gibberish. Frank blinked in confusion and Mr. English Accent sighed. He tried again, speaking more slowly.

"_Can you understand what I am saying? If so nod_." Frank nodded. This was not a language he had ever studied, but somehow he did understand the man.

"_Of course you remember your mother tongue. Your mother or father probably sang lullabies to you in our language. What is your clan name_?"

"Clan? My last name is none of your business!" Frank spat.

"Watch your mouth boy!" Emile sneered and nudged Frank's neck with the end of something cold and metallic, like the handle of a cane.

"_So you can understand our language but do not speak it, typical for your kind. Actually, that is preferred. Delebon does not understand English, so he will not understand you when you talk back. But you may want you watch your tone. Delebon does not tolerate insolence, especially from slaves_."

"I'm not going to be anyone's slave!" Frank stood and shouted.

"_Ah, spirited you are. My master will enjoy breaking you of that._ Louvel, hold boy up. Must inspect."

"With pleasure." Emile grabbed the chain of Frank's shackles and raised Frank's arms above his head. Frank tried to struggle but Emile only pulled the chains higher until Frank was standing on his toes, struggling to maintain his balance. Mr. English Accent ran his gloved hands over Frank's head, his neck, his back and arms.

"Yes, strong this one." He said to Emile. His inspection ran lower to his chest, stomach and hip bones. He ran his fingers gingerly over every scar on his chest from past injuries and the surgery to realign his broken ribs. The stranger inspected the surgical scars on Frank's leg.

"_What happened to your leg child_?"

"A vampire stepped on me." Frank snapped.

"_Fascinating_."

He took Frank's cock in one hand and lifted it to inspect his balls by rolling and tugging them. Frank bit his lip and turned his head away, trying to block out the humiliation to his privates. He was soon having his penis stroked. The stranger reached further back and stroked over Frank's entrance.

"_Relax dear boy and try to enjoy this. I only wish to see how beautiful your body will be when my master ravishes you_." Frank tried twisting and turning his body away, but that only served to excite the stranger. He heard the other's breathing quicken and the strokes to his cock became faster, the exploration of his ass became more intrusive until a thick gloved finger breached him.

"Gaaah!" Frank screamed at the dry and blunt intrusion. His back arched and he moved to pull away, but there was no where to go. The man continued to force his long finger in and out of Frank. He had moved behind the brunette and Emile moved slightly to accommodate him. Mr. English Accent licked a broad stripe along Frank's neck with what felt like a longer than normal tongue. Frank's skin burned where the tongue touched him and the stranger gave one last forceful push inside Frank, stroking his prostate and causing the young man to lose control. The first note of pleasure after nearly a half hour of inspection and torture had Frank coming shakily all over the gloved hand of the inspector. The stranger removed his hand and Frank could hear the sickening sounds of the man lapping the cum from his hand.

"_Excellent boy_!" Mr. English Accent's face was now directly in front of his, Frank could feel the man's hot breath on his cheeks. "Enough Louvel. Done here." Emile released Frank's shackles and the young man fell boneless to the floor.

"Shall we go now to my office and discuss a final price and arrangements?" Emile suggested.

"We shall."

They left Frank on the cold cement floor and the heavy door was closed. Frank didn't move from his spot in front of his bed. He was still sitting there in the dark when Eric finally woke from his daytime slumber.

"Frank? Frank what's wrong? What's happened?" Eric got up from his bed and approached the center of the room even though he knew he couldn't reach Frank. His nostrils flared when he picked up the scent of sex and fresh blood from where Frank bit his lip so hard.

"I've been inspected." Frank said, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Apparently I'm being sold as a sex slave for some Delebon character."

"What? No! He can't do that! I won't let him!" Eric strained against his bonds but only succeeded in inflicting more pain upon his self.

"I don't think you have a lot of say in the matter. From what I gather, you don't have a lot of say in anything when it comes to Emile." Even in the absolute darkness there was no mistaking the look Frank shot Eric. Eric sat down so he was eye level with Frank, even though he knew Frank couldn't see him.

"Ten years, I am magically and contractually bound to serve Emile for ten years in exchange for him bringing you to me. Although, the terms of the agreement seem to be up to his interpretation."

"So what were you expecting? Emile would bring me to you, we'd fall madly back in love and then hang around New Orleans for ten years to fulfill your end of the contract?" Frank didn't even sound bitter.

"Yes." Eric answered weakly. "Sounds kind of naïve now that you put it that way."

…

"She's on strict bed rest for the next twenty four hours. The bleeding has stopped and they're still getting a heartbeat on the ultrasound. Dr. Newell believes it could be placenta previa." Laura Hardy said quietly over her cell phone. "They're giving her some fluids through the I.V. and she's sleeping now. Andrea's gone downstairs to get us some coffee."

"I'm calling Jack to get the plane ready as soon as I hang up with you." said Joe.

"She figured you'd say that. They'll probably release her tomorrow night Sweetie."

"I don't care! My wife and child are in the hospital, I need to be there!"

"Alright son. Call me before you take off to let me know when you're expected to land and I'll pick you up."

"Thanks Mom. Love you."

"Love you too Joe." Joe hung up with his mother. His father was already on his phone calling Jack Wayne to ready the plane again.

"He's eating dinner now, he'll be ready by eight tonight."

"Thanks Dad. I hate leaving you and the guys."

"I understand son. And I know Frank would understand too."

"That's just it. This is the sort of thing Frank and I were arguing about before he left. And now he's missing…" Joe was interrupted from his pity party by the door opening and Biff and Phil entering the hotel room.

"I think we may have something there, wait until we tell you what happened with Miss Ledet!" Biff said excitedly.

"Tell me quick, I'm heading back to Bayport."

"Oh no Joe. Vanessa didn't…" Phil began, his eyes were full of sympathy.

"No, but I need to be there."

"We understand man. You give her some hugs from us when you see her." Biff added and patted his friend on the back.

While Joe re-packed his bags Biff and Phil told the two Hardys what happened when they interviewed Mozelle.

"Well that's enough to convince me. I'll take the copies of Frank's credit card records and go back down to the Royal Street station." Fenton said and gathered up his room key and the papers.

"I'll go with you this time Fenton." Phil stood and slipped his shoes back on.

Fenton hugged his son goodbye sure that Joe would be gone by the time he got back from the station. When Mr. Hardy and Phil were gone Joe turned to Biff.

"Find my brother, please Biff."

"I promise Joe. We'll find him."

…..

**Author's Note:**

It's been a busy week in the Hollyboo2001 household. Hope you all enjoy this update, sorry for the delay. Things are going to heat up in the next chapter.

Thanks for all the reads and visits the last few days! And as always, thanks to my faithful reviewer for your encouraging words. ;D


	21. Until My Dying Day

Chapter 21: Until My Dying Day

**Before you read: Trigger warning, as the chapter title implies.**

Phil was becoming antsy in the crowded police station. The captain had taken Fenton to the back thirty minutes ago to go over the information everyone had collected so far. The air conditioning units were running as hard as they could go, but it was still hot, muggy and smelly in the station. Phil looked out of the window to see an inviting breeze whipping through the fronds of the palm tree in the small courtyard. The sun was going down so perhaps it was cooler outside than in that old station building. And he was right, the breeze felt absolutely delightful compared to the atmosphere inside. He sat on the vacant marble steps and watched the world pass by.

The romance and gaiety of the Crescent City was not lost on Phil. Happy couples rode by on horse drawn carriages. Lovers walked arm in arm down Royal Street peering into shops that were still open, laughter rising up like steam from the day's humidity.

Phil thought of Frank. He thought about how Frank might have enjoyed strolling through the vintage streets, hand in hand in a place where no one would look twice at two gay men wrapped up in each other. He knew Frank was a hopeless romantic on the inside, although sometimes he fumbled when he tried to show it. Phil could just picture them getting their palms read at Jackson Square, or peering down from one of the iron balconies as the parade of nightly revelers went by.

Phil stared off into the distance while he was lost in his daydream. In his periphery he thought he saw a familiar shape. He looked to the left and swore he saw Mozelle Ledet walking down Royal Street. She turned slightly and when Mozelle caught his eye she winked. She proceeded to continue walking and turned her head again, to see if Phil was watching. Phil stood and poked his head in the Police station. Fenton was no where in sight, so he must still be with the captain. Phil could still see the back of her head. Did she mean for Phil to follow her? Maybe she had information about Frank that she could not reveal in front of her boss.

Phil broke into a light jog trying to catch up to the blonde, but she always seemed to be half a block ahead of him. She made a turn onto Bienville Street, then to the busy and hectic Bourbon Street. Phil wanted to holler for her to slow down, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He had finally got past a crowd that was spilling out of bar that was blaring "Lady Marmalade" from the live band inside and realized that she was gone. How had he lost her? But he felt a forceful tug on the back of his shirt and Phil found himself on his backside in a dingy, beer and piss drenched alley.

He felt a weight across his lap and then lipstick-slicked lips were suddenly on his.

"What the hell are you doing?" Phil hissed when he forced her face away from his by pushing on her shoulders.

"Awe sugar, you can't blame a girl for being just a little bit curious." She leant down to his ear. "Just wanted to see what Frank enjoyed when he got to kiss those lips of yours." Phil gasped and pushed her off of his body so hard that Mozelle hit the brick wall behind her with a resounding smack. For a heart stopping moment Phil worried that he'd accidentally killed the woman as she crumpled to the pavement. But she gathered herself up and smirked.

"You like it rough? Alright sugar, I can do _rough_." She launched herself at Phil with an equal amount of force. Phil landed on his backside again and felt his jaw explode in pain as Mozelle decked him.

"Damn it woman..." Phil cursed through clenched teeth, but she smiled, reached around to her back pocket and blew some sort of powdery substance at his face. Phil sneezed and coughed as his world began to spin and tilt.

"Now sugar, if you don't mind, I need to borrow you for a little bit."

…..

When the sun went down, Amy Johnson rose for the night. When she was dressed and prepared for the night ahead she opened the door that adjoined her suite to the others'. Biff was pacing the floor with his phone to his ear. He stopped when he saw her standing in the doorway and nodded to acknowledge her presence.

"Okay Fenton, Amy and I will meet you in front of the station. We'll be there in a few." Biff ended the call and turned to the vampire.

"Phil's gone missing now. He and Fenton went down to the station to talk to the Captain. When Fenton got out Phil was no where to be found. He's not picking up his cell phone either."

"Where is Joseph?" Amy noticed a suitcase was missing from the grouping of luggage near the closet.

"He had to fly back home. They think his wife might be having a miscarriage." Amy's eyes widened and for the first time since he'd met her, Biff thought he could actually see a look of sorrow in her features.

"I pray she and the child will be well."

"We're all hoping for that." They stared at each other for a moment, no words passed between them until Amy shook her head and got back to the matter at hand.

"I will call my friends again. Look through his laundry bag of worn clothes, find something Phil may have sweated in, and meet me on the roof." Biff's upper lip curled at the thought of digging through someone else's dirty laundry, but he knew where Amy was going with it.

Biff arrived on the roof of the hotel minutes later to see Amy surrounded by three of the vampires that had been helping her all week. Minnie was a very pale and petite raven-haired girl, and at the tender age of three hundred years, she didn't look a day over seventeen. By her side with an over protective arm around her was a quiet young man of Native American decent named simply Guy (the "uy" pronounced like "ey" in "key", otherwise the swarthy youth ignored you as if you hadn't addressed him at all). Rounding out the group was a pale man with blonde hair that reminded Biff of Joe. Johan was actually "related" to Amy, via Magnus but had parted company from the Haraldson brood a century before. He never explained to Amy why he'd left until after he received news of Magnus' final death last winter. All three vampires upheld the same ideals that Amy cherished and were more than willing to see a murderous Were go down and find the human friend that had saved their beloved Amy and Ezekiel.

"Ah! The mighty hunter approaches!" Johan teased as Biff made his way past the massive climate control units on the top of the hotel. Biff tossed the shirt to Amy and the three vampires each took a turn collecting Phil's scent.

"Two missing humans in two days? Your friends should be more careful about the company they keep Amy." Commented Minnie, who gave Biff a meaningful glare as she passed the smelly shirt off to Guy.

"Call me if you find anything Minnie. And again, thank you all for your help." Amy said graciously and then the other vampires set off in different directions, bounding from one roof top to the next and then to the streets.

"Allen, are you ready to go?" Amy asked Biff.

"Seriously? You can't call me Biff like everyone else?" He asked.

"Seriously? You let people call you _Biff_?"

"It's a family name."

"Biff sounds like a brainless muscle head. You are smarter than that. Allen suits you."

"Fair enough."

"So, _Allen_, are you ready?" Biff took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

"Ready as I'll ever be." The pair jumped from the roof of the Ritz Carlton to the one of the building below it, down to an alley perpendicular to Canal Street, and then headed toward the police station.

…..

"So let me get this straight, she can make her appearance turn into that of whomever she touches?" Frank asked.

"Yes, but just temporarily. If she wanted to be able to use your appearance at will in the future, she would have left her hand on you for a lot longer… and it would have killed you." Eric amended.

He was more than happy to talk about anything Frank wanted so long as the brunette kept talking. If Frank was talking, that meant that he wasn't shouting at him about what a selfish bastard he was or giving him the silent treatment altogether. Right now Eric was giving Frank a quick education in shape shifters, or at least sharing what little he knew about the beings.

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate to touch on a sore subject, but I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what Magnus did to your leg. I'm sorry for getting you mixed up with Emile. And, more than anything, I'm sorry for …"

Eric never got to finish his sentence because the vault door above opened and Emile sauntered down the stairs, brandishing a cane like it was a new toy. Frank recognized it as his cane but decided not to say anything. He'd take his freedom over that stupid thing in a heartbeat. Eric jumped up and approached the werewolf as close as his chains would allow.

"I'm beggig you Emile, please don't do this…"

"Silence, Eric." Eric's voice trailed off even as he continued to move his mouth to protest. If Frank had known about that trick sooner he would have asked Emile to shut Eric up a long time ago.

From where it was tucked under his arm, Emile presented Frank with an elegantly wrapped shirt-sized box.

"A gift," he said, "from your new master, Monsieur Delebon. He wishes you to be showered and dressed for presentation. We leave shortly to meet him." Frank just looked at the box and then back to Emile. He didn't even bother to accept the box, he just sat there staring at Emile hatefully.

"Oh, well I can see how the anticipation of such a fine gift has you so overwhelmed you can hardly move, so I will do the honors then? Oui?" Emile pulled the ribbon on the box and tore away the paper with flourish. Out of the box he pulled a pair of white silk pajamas with ivory colored piping on the sleeves, collar and hem of the pants.

"My! What exquisite tastes your master has." He placed the box of pajamas on the bed and clapped his hands together. "Well now, time to start getting ready! We don't want to keep Monsieur Delebon waiting." Frank didn't budge.

"Of course, I'm sure Monsieur Delebon would gladly accept you in your present state, _au naturel_, however, I do believe the purpose of the gift from your master is to signify that you are reserved for Monsieur Delebon alone, and therefore not at the mercy of his second-in-command or other members of his traveling party. You do remember his second, Dolon, from this morning, do you not? Or would you prefer to be passed around like a flagon of wine for anyone who wishes a taste?"

Eric was trying to get Frank's attention with his eyes. Silently begging him to please move or do something before Emile lost his patience. Too late. Emile lifted the cane in his right hand struck Frank hard across his cheekbone with the eagle-head handle, sending Frank sprawling to the cement floor. Instinctively Frank raised his already aching hand to his right cheek. He could feel the hot stickiness of blood under his fingertips.

"Now Monsieur Hardy, I do not wish to mark you anymore than I have to before you are turned over to your rightful owner. So, if you will please…"

"Over my dead body!" Frank spat, still shaking from pain and humiliation. Emile looked down on his captive and sniffed.

"Well now, we cannot have that, you're bought and paid for." Emile walked back up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight Eric found his voice again.

"Frank! Are you okay? Look at me!"

"G-d that hurt like a son of a…" Frank winced as he tested the gash on his cheek with his fingers.

"Come here and I'll heal it."

"You just want a snack."

"Frank!"

"Okay, fine!" Frank shuffled over to Eric and let the vampire seal the wound and clean up the blood on his face. Eric looked at Frank's wrists and ankles while he had the brunette in front of him and noticed the skin under the shackles was raw and chaffed, the skin had broken open and scabbed over in other places.

"Good Lord Frank, look at your skin where the shackles are rubbing you. Do you want me to try and heal that too?"

"It'll be okay, just so long as it's not bleeding anymore. Thanks for taking care of the cut."

"No problem." The door opened again and this time a struggle could be heard. They saw Emile come down the steps, dragging an individual who was clearly trying to get away. Emile used his upper body strength to throw the person down the last couple of steps to the basement. Whoever it was, it was a young man, though his face and head were covered by a hood. Emile dragged the boy to the center of the room and ripped the hood off of his head.

"Phil!" The weight of those iron shackles meant nothing as Frank crossed the room to his fiancée. Phil looked worse for wear. He had a dark bruise on the side of his face where he must have been struck during his capture. He was gagged and his hands were bound behind his back.

"Phil, are you okay? Have they hurt you?" Frank tried to undo the knot in the shorn piece of cloth that served as a gag, but Frank's fingers were too clumsy from nerves and weakness.

Eric watched silently as Frank clung to his lover's shirt, trying to bring the boy's body as close to his as possible. He saw Frank kiss Phil despite the gag, kiss his cheeks, and run his hands over his bruised face. Eric heard Frank tell Phil how much he missed him, how much he loved him… Words Eric had wanted to hear when _he_ was reunited with Frank.

"Eric, grab Frank, do not let him go until I tell you to." Eric put a strong hand around each of Frank's arms and pulled him away from Phil.

"No! Eric let me go! What are you doing! No!" Frank screamed.

Emile stood behind Phil, who was on his knees, and grabbed him by the top of his wavy hair. He withdrew a hunting knife from his pocket and without hesitation he slit Phil's throat.

"No! No Noooooooo!" Frank wailed, struggling for all he was worth to get away from Eric.

"You may release him Eric."

Time stood still when Eric released Frank and Emile let go of Phil's hair. Slowly Phil slumped to the floor. Frank reached him just before Phil's head hit the cold cement. He placed his left hand under Phil's head and covered the laceration with his right in a futile effort to stem the blood flow. But blood was everywhere, gushing out from between Frank's fingers and pooling under Phil. His blood mixing with Frank's dried blood on the hard floor.

"Phil…No honey, st-stay with me…you…you're gonna be alright. Just… Cut this damn gag off of him! Please! Phil…Keep your eyes on me hon…don't…don't close your eyes." Those honey and hazel eyes stared at Frank. They were scared, panicky, and drooping. Phil's body began to shake and Frank held him closer, to offer Phil's body all the warmth his could offer. Frank could hear Phil gurgling and choking behind the gag. Frank stole a look at the laceration under his hand. It was deep, so deep. The color red bloomed under the gag and Phil's eyes began to roll back in his head.

"Phil! Phillip! Phillip no! No." The shaking slowed down and Phil's eyes came back into focus for just a second. "I love you! Do you hear me? I love you. I've always loved you Phillip. I always will…"

Phil was completely still. His eyes were fixed on some point in the distance. A tear had leaked out of the corner of his eye. Frank wiped the tear away with the back of his bloody hand. He wasn't sure at what point he had started crying, but his vision was blurred with tears. Frank ran his fingers through Phil's soft, loosened curls, memorizing their texture. He rested his forehead on Phil's and wept.

Can the human heart actually break in two? It certainly must because Frank felt like his had shattered into pieces. Phil, so full of life, the one who coaxed Frank out of his shell, stood by him through the toughest of times, the one who made Frank's heart hammer when he entered the room…gone. All their dreams, all their plans, any hope that Frank had to get him through whatever the future held…was gone.

Frank ran his hand down Phil's chest. The comforting thump of his heart that Frank loved to feel and listen to when they were curled up in bed was no longer there. Phil's skin was growing cooler by the second. Frank looked at Phil's face, and his lips which were stretched around the gag were turning a purplish blue. His unseeing eyes, oh those eyes that lit up Frank's world, were fixed and still open. Frank used his left hand to gently lower his eyelids.

He wasn't aware of Eric sitting on his bed, watching his world come crashing down around him. He wasn't aware of Emile standing over him. At least, not until he felt the cold handle of the cane pushed into the back of his neck.

"Lesson one of being a slave: Do as you are told when you are told to do it, or your master will destroy everything, and everyone you love."

…

**Author's Note:**

Don't. Shoot. Me.


	22. A Hollow Victory

Chapter 22: A Hollow Victory

Eric Langhorne had disliked Phil Cohen for as long as he could remember. Back in college, when he was a senior and Frank was a junior, he'd tolerated Phil.

"He's one of my dearest friends, Eric. I wish you would try to get along with him." _Dearest_ friend, not good friend like Tony, best friend like his schoolmate Biff, or oldest friend like Chet, but dearest, meaning he held their friendship closer to his heart more so than the others.

He had to give Phil credit. Phil was the one who Frank had leaned on when he first came out. He gave Frank more guidance and support than any of Eric's childhood friends had given him. Eric wished he could have had a friend like Phil when he'd made his true self known to the world.

Emphasis on _a friend_ _like_ Phil. The boy himself still rubbed Eric the wrong way. It was bad enough he had to deal with the pushy and nosey little brother Joe who was almost always underfoot when he wasn't with his girlfriend. But whenever Phil was around, he gave Eric that look, the "I'm waiting for you to screw up" look, and that chafed Eric to no end. Even worse were the looks Phil gave Frank when he wasn't looking. Looks of longing and adoration… even when he was dating other men.

And Eric was not blind to the way Frank's face lit up when the dark haired boy entered the room. Dearest friend? His face didn't light up like that when Biff, Chet, Tony or his own brother came near. Frank didn't smile like that for Eric. Never did in the nearly two years they dated.

Then the ultimate assault to Eric's heart… Frank had given his heart and his body to Phil in a way he had never allowed himself to with Eric. And after just a few short months! What did Eric not do or say to Frank in two years that Phil managed in such a short amount of time? Those questions fueled the fire of Eric's growing dislike and eventual hatred for Phil, a hatred that grew strong enough to want to see the man dead.

Wish granted.

But it was a hollow victory. Even as the man now lay dead on the floor, it gave him no joy. Frank was moments away from being turned over to some stranger as a slave, a sex slave at that. Eric was powerless to do a thing about. He'd made a deal with a devil so to speak, and now he wished more than anything he had read the fine print before entering into such a binding and absolute contract with Emile Louvel.

Emile had brought Frank to Eric, and by upholding his end of the magical contract that strengthened the power he had over Eric. Before, when Emile would ask Eric to do something, Eric could still feel as if he had some control over his own actions. But when Frank appeared in the basement and had approached Eric, Emile's commands became more overpowering, more consuming. Any willful resistance was painful. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. The love of his life was being ripped away from him again.

But something was changing inside of Eric as he watched Frank mourn his lover on that cold cement floor. He loved Frank, and he could not bear to see Frank in pain. He wanted to go to Frank, to soothe him, to do anything to make things right for him again. To do anything to take the pain away, even if it meant bringing Phil back to life.

And it finally clicked. He had been a selfish bastard. He'd never put what Frank wanted or needed ahead of his own needs. And because of his childishness, Eric was bound to a greedy werewolf, a shameful thing for a vampire, and Frank, who was innocent in all of this, was being sent away to a life of torture and humiliation. Eric might as well have signed Frank's death certificate, because with Phil gone what hope did Frank have to cling to in order to survive a life of slavery? It was for Phil and his family that he'd submitted to Eric's will this past winter.

"This is all my fault." Eric said quietly to himself. He stood and approached Frank, and sank down behind him. "I'm sorry Frank." He whispered. Frank's sobs and shaking didn't stop. Eric gently put his hand on Frank's shoulder. He'd expected Frank to shake him off, maybe nearly break his other hand lashing out at him. He didn't. Frank simply ignored him.

Emile walked back down the stairs. When had he gone up? He held a paper grocery bag in his hand and met Eric's eyes.

"We've wasted enough time here. Eric, put the body on the bed, and then see to it that both of you are showered." Emile tossed the paper bag and a square wrapped in wax paper onto Frank's bed. "A change of clothes for you, mon ami, and both of you use that soap." Scent covering soap. Eric recognized the bar from on similar to it in Emile's bathroom.

"_Now_ Eric." Emile growled. Eric could feel the hot grip of pain in his head as he tried to delay the inevitable.

"What about Frank's shirt? He can't put it on with the shackles…"

"I'll help you with that when I return." Emile said smoothly. He turned around and headed back up the stairs.

Eric scooped the lifeless body of Phil Cohen in his arms and gently laid him on his bed. Frank was right beside him. He took the rumpled towel lying at the foot of his own bed and draped it over Phil up to his torn neck. Frank sat on the edge of the bed by Phil. Eric reached behind Phil's head to tear away the gag.

"Frank, turn your head a minute." Frank obeyed, and Eric removed the gag and as gently as he could, closed Phil's mouth. He didn't want to add more to Frank's trauma by seeing his fiancée's lifeless mouth agape. He undid Phil's bonds and brought his arms around to the front, resting them on his chest.

"Okay Frank." Eric whispered. Frank looked at Eric's work and the tears began anew.

"Frank, we've…"

"I know." Frank croaked. He kissed Phil's forehead and the backs of his hands and tucked them under the towel. He leant down to Phil's ear and although he was barely whispering, Eric's sharp ears picked up on the private words of undying love, and the last ones that confirmed the damage Eric knew he was his own doing.

"I'll be with you soon."

…

Emile buttoned the front of Frank's white silk pajama top. He stepped back to examine his handiwork.

"There now, might I say Monsieur Hardy that you look good enough to eat, or to be ravished on a bed of rose petals." Frank only cast his brown eyes downward. He had not met the older man's eyes since he had slit Phil's throat. Had Emile finally broken the defiant boy? Pity, he was sure Delebon would have thrilled at accomplishing that task himself. But there was so much more of this young man to be enjoyed that Delebon could hardly be disappointed for long.

Emile looked over to Eric who had donned the jeans and shoes that he had brought down for him. He hadn't bothered with a shirt for the vampire. He enjoyed looking over the muscled and rock hard lines of his chest and back.

"Eric, maybe when we are done with this transaction, I will take you somewhere nice to ravish you on a bed of petals. Oui?"

"What about Mozelle?"

"Ah, Mozelle! Our partnership has met its natural end and I have cut her loose." Emile gave Eric a smile that did not quite meet his eyes. He walked over to Eric with a small key in his hand.

"I am about to release you from your bonds. You are not to raise a hand to me. You are not to harm my physical being in any way. You are to obey every command I give you. Do you understand Eric?" Eric winced as the orders rang is his head like a clanging church bell.

"Yes! Yes, I understand Emile."

"Très bien." Emile unlocked the silver chain from the studded dog collar and stepped back quickly.

"Escort Monsieur Hardy to the car waiting outside and get behind the wheel, I will follow you in a moment. You are not to leave without me." Eric nodded mutely and held Frank by the arm to escort the docile young man up the stairs.

…..

Bobbi Lee's feet ached as she made her way to the Pontalba buildings near at Jackson Square. Just make it to the shop, make it to the shop, she kept telling herself. Maybe the shop would still be open and she could get Mozelle to mix up some of the miraculously soothing bath salts that drew the aches and pains out of her sore feet, legs and back. After a nights of dancing and entertaining the masses, a nice soak in the salts made her feel like a new woman.

She smiled to herself despite the pain. _New woman_. After years of trying finding her way in this crazy world she finally had the confidence to call herself a woman. She owned it. The shy and gangly Robert Lee Shackleford was long gone. Bobbi Lee now liked what she saw in the mirror these days. When she had saved up enough money, she could finally take the final step in her transformation.

As she passed by a lingerie store her mind drifted to the anticipated joy of finally buying pretty and comfortable underthings. Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a familiar reflection in shop window. She turned to see a young brunette man in a white shirt and pants escorted into a car by a tall ginger in jeans and a dog collar.

Cutie Pie! No, what was his real name? Frank?

"Frank? Frank!" The brunette looked out of the car's window to the woman hollering across the street. His face did not register recognition, but something else. He looked sad, resigned. He raised his hands and pressed a finger to his lips to silence her. Bobbi Lee looked at the savage glare on the redhead's face and Bobbi Lee shrunk into the shadows. Then she saw the heavy cuffs on the boy's wrists. What the…? Oh shit! The kid _was_ in trouble!

She saw another man come out of the building, Mozelle's boss, and got into the front passenger seat of the car. The ginger got behind the wheel and the car took off eastbound on Chartres Street. Bobbi Lee scrambled for her purse and wrote the license plate number down on the back of the business card that Hardy man had given her. She flipped the card over and started dialing Mr. Hardy's number on her cell phone. The world suddenly shook underneath her feet, bringing her screaming to her knees as shop windows burst and glass came cascading down around her.

…..

The explosion could be felt all the way to police station at Royal Street and beyond. The French Quarter was instantly in an uproar. Fenton Hardy felt his cell phone vibrate as soon as the world stopped shaking. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered it nonetheless.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Hardy! It's Bobbi Lee!" A voice yelled over the phone.

"Who?"

"The lady you met at the station this morning. You gave me your card!"

"I'm sorry Miss Lee, but right now is not a good…"

"Mr. Hardy, I just saw your son! He's been taken away in a black Mercedes, I got the number just before the shop blew up!"

"Where are you? We're on our way!"

…..

Biff saw the smoke rising from blocks away.

"That is the PontalbaBuilding." Amy said.

"The same building where the perfume shop Phil and I investigated is located." His phone rang and his fear was confirmed.

"A witness saw Frank being escorted out of the store and into a car that went up Chartres Street, eastbound." Biff could hardly hear Fenton over the claxon of sirens that rang out throughout the city and the noise in the background where Fenton was down in Jackson Square. Amy could hear Fenton's loud voice from where she stood near Biff.

"They could be anywhere by now." Amy fretted. But what she heard next floored her.

"The witness said she saw Frank get into a car with an older man and a tall redheaded man wearing a dog collar…"

Amy sank to her knees. A dog collar? A silver-studded dog collar if she had to guess. Eric had indentured himself to be someone's slave? Someone's drudge? Had he learned nothing from her life's story? Didn't he realize once he was enslaved he would be subject to the will of his master in all matters? His life was no longer his own. If his master commanded that Eric walk outside and meet the sun he was bound to do it.

"Amy?"

"The fool." Her voice shook. "The stupid fool! Eric has become that man's slave."

"Amy, come on now. We've got to stay focused. You need to call Minnie and Johan and get them to spread out the search." Amy handed Biff her cell phone.

"I need a moment." She stood and walked to the eastern end of the rooftop. Biff made the necessary calls and returned her phone.

"I can't get Johan."

The streets below were chaos with tourists and locals alike flowing in two opposing directions. There were those who wanted to get the hell out of there and there were those too drunk or too stupid to get out and were trying to make their way to Jackson Square to see what happened. Police cars from other stations were slowly making their way through the pedestrian traffic. Fire engines were having just as difficult a time reaching ground zero. Ambulance lights flickered a few blocks away, stopping to aid those who had been injured by the shattered glass and general confusion.

Amy's phone chimed this time, Biff answered it for her.

"Johan? Thanks for calling back…" Amy tuned out of the conversation as she fumed and worried over the unimaginable decision her child had made. She was vaguely aware of Biff ending the call and handing her phone back to her.

"They found Phil."


	23. Open to Interpretation

Chapter 23: Open to Interpretation

"Zere you are! I 'oped I would find you 'ere." Andrea Bender said in a hushed voice. She slid into the pew beside Laura Hardy in Bayport Memorial's chapel.

"I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts." Laura replied quietly. Andrea linked her arm with Laura's and patted the petite blonde's shoulder with her other hand.

"I want to zank you for coming as soon as you did today. I was going out of my mind fearing something would 'appen to Vanessa and ze bébé before Joe could get 'ere."

"I couldn't imagine being anywhere else, Vanessa's like a daughter to me." Laura said. "Besides, being here helping you is helping to distract me. All I've been able to think about since yesterday morning is Frank, where his is and if Fenton will find him. Is he hurt, is he being mistreated by whoever took him?" The woman closed her eyes and took a calming breath. It would do no one any good for her to fall apart at a time like this.

"'Ow do you do this Laura? After all zese years of Fenton being in law enforcement, and ze boys 'ave fallen right into his footsteps. 'Ow do you stay sane? Vanessa 'asn't been married a year yet and my 'eart goes up in my throat every time she talks about Joe's job." Andrea wondered.

"I wonder about that sometimes myself. Faith I guess," Laura's fingers instinctively touched the small silver cross on a thin chain around her neck. "It's just a feeling deep down inside that the good Lord is watching over us. Somehow I just get a gut feeling that everything will work out in the end."

"I envy you your optimism."

"If I weren't optimistic I think I would have had a nervous breakdown years ago."

"So what does your gut tell you about ze bébé?"

Laura pondered this for a moment then turned to her fellow grandmother-to-be and covered the woman's hand with her smaller one.

"I think you and I are going to have a very fine time spoiling this baby rotten."

Andrea smiled at Laura and kissed her cheek. The taller woman left the chapel to continue her vigil at Vanessa's bedside until Joe arrived. Alone, Laura looked to the marble statue of the Madonna. Laura sighed and looked away, feeling guilty for having lied to Andrea in such a sacred room.

…

The door opened just enough to allow a sliver of light into the darkened hospital room. Vanessa was sleeping as peacefully as could be expected considering she was flat on her back and her feet were slightly elevated. Joe stepped into the room gingerly, not wanting to wake his wife abruptly. Her face was pale and dark circles marked the tender skin under her eyes. An oxygen cannula and I.V. were familiar sights to Joe, but on his wife they just looked wrong.

He settled into the chair near Vanessa's head and kissed her brow. She mumbled something in her sleep and shifted.

"Joe?" Joe saw Andrea standing in the doorway. He stood as she walked over to him and hugged him. "I'm so glad you're 'ere! But I thought you were going to call Laura to come get you?"

"Jack gave me a ride on his way home from the airfield. Where's Mom?"

"I just left 'er in the chapel. She needed a moment alone."

"What's the latest news?"

"Zey want her off her feet like zis for a few more days. Zey think tilting her pelvis will 'elp shift the placenta. Zey'll do another ultrasound Wednesday if she doesn't bleed anymore."

Joe sighed and rubbed his face, letting the information sink in.

"Joe? You're here!" Joe rushed to Vanessa's side.

"Hey Baby! How are you feeling?" Joe brushed Vanessa's tangled hair from her forehead and kissed her sweetly. She smiled into the kiss and touched his face with her fingertips.

"What are you doing here? Mom and Laura were doing fine keeping me company. You need to be with the others finding Frank."

"I need to be here. You are my life Vanessa. If something happened to you or the baby…"

"Shh… Joe." She ran her hand over his stubbly face.

"You didn't answer my question, how are you feeling?" Joe said after a moment.

"I'm not in any pain, just very tired, a little nauseated, and I'm worried. But during the last sonogram they ran the technician could still pick up a heartbeat. It's amazing Joe," Vanessa's eyes suddenly lit up. "It's too tiny to hear yet, but you can just make out a little flicker on the screen, it looks like a tiny butterbean."

"A butterbean, huh? Did you hear that?" Joe directed the conversation to Vanessa's belly, "You've got your first nickname kid, Butterbean!" Joe and Vanessa laughed.

They didn't notice Andrea slip from the room, but the grandmother-to-be knew this moment was just for them. She remembered sharing moments like that with Luc when she found out she was pregnant with Vanessa. How the brawny Canadian turned into a pile of mush whenever he ran his hands over her growing belly.

"Oh! Andrea! Is everything okay? I was on my way back to spell you for a bit." Laura was surprised to see Andrea in the hall with a lost look on her face.

"Ah, I'm sorry Laura. I was in my own little world, going down memory lane. Joe's 'ere, 'e's in ze room with Vanessa now, thought I'd give them a little privacy."

Laura leaned against the wall of the corridor, a look of relief washed over her face. At least one of her sons was present and accounted for. Now Fenton just needs to find Frank and bring him home safe and sound.

…

His eyes cracked open and a bright white light filled his vision. His ears were ringing and he was disoriented. He was lying on something soft.

"Welcome back to the land of the living!" He didn't recognize the voice, he turned his head and his blurry vision picked up the shape of a tall figure with blonde hair.

"Joe?" He rasped. What was Joe still doing here? He'd left for New York.

"Nah mate, Johan. I'm a friend of Amy's." He blinked a few more times and his vision finally cleared. No, that definitely was not Joe.

"Where am I?"

"I snuck you back into your hotel room. Couldn't take you to the hospital, they would have put you in detox. I found you wandering around Bourbon Street with a white powder on your face, dazed and only wearing your skivvies."

Phil sat up and looked down on his body. Sure enough, he was dressed in only his burgundy Hanes boxer briefs. Memories rushed to the front of his brain and he snapped his head up.

"That Mozelle from the perfume shop jumped me in an alley."

"You let some bird get the drop on you?" Johan laughed.

"Hey, she was as strong as an ox!" Phil defended, still feeling the throbbing pain in his cheekbone where the blonde woman had struck.

"Whatever. Look mate, if you feel up to it, your Frank has been spotted heading east in a black Mercedes. Do you feel up to getting dressed and getting back out there?"

"Yes!" Phil scrambled off the bed, but swayed as his feet hit the floor.

"Easy mate! Maybe you ought to stay here? Amy said you were a bit of an egghead, maybe you can do some sort of voodoo on your computer?" But Phil shook his head vehemently.

"No, gotta get back out there, find Frank!" He searched his drawer for some clothes and ran to the bathroom to wipe the whitish powder off of his face.

"My cell phone, my wallet?" Phil realized if his clothes were missing, so were his other belongings.

"Luckily you had those in your hand, although all your cash was gone." Phil accepted the items from the vampire and looked around in his toiletry kit for one last thing. He withdrew two vials of vampire blood. One he choked back immediately and the other he tucked into a Velcro'd pocket in his cargo pants for an emergency. Johan watched him down the dark red serum warily. Then Phil went to his suitcase and pulled out a pistol and two extra clips. The brilliant gleam of the silver bullets was unmistakable.

"Ah, um, you're not a hunter like your mate Biff are you?"

"You don't have to worry about me. I only kill the ones that try to kill me or the people I care about." Phil snapped impatiently. He tossed two silver-tipped stakes to the blonde vampire who caught them deftly with his hands. Johan looked at the stakes curiously.

"If they're moving Frank, I'll bet you anything this guy's not alone."

…..

Phil couldn't have been more right.

Shortly after leaving the French Quarter Emile instructed Eric to pull off behind a warehouse near the train tracks. There waiting behind the metal structure were two burly looking men.

"Bonne soirée mes frères." Emile greeted as each opened a door in the back and slid in, sandwiching Frank between them. The man to Frank's left had his hair cut in a mullet and was heavily tattooed. The sleeves of his camp shirt were torn off and his black tennis shoes were caked with mud. The man to his right looked like he just left a night club, his appearance was much neater, and he smelled better.

"Eric, you remember my lupine brothers Jacques and Miguel?" Eric nodded to the newcomers. He remembered them alright. They weren't his favorite people by a long shot.

"Louvel finally made you his bitch, eh bloodfucker?" Jacques sneered, snapping the dog collar against Eric's neck. Eric growled lowly at the Were and lunged for the other's neck.

"Eric! Cease and put the car back in drive!" Eric turned his attention back to the steering wheel and pulled back out onto North Peters Street.

"So Emile, this is the cutie you're selling to Delebon? I bet you fetched a pretty price for this one." Miguel said as he ran his hand on the silky inside of Frank's thigh. Frank didn't bother to flinch his leg away.

"Hands off the merchandise Miguel, you know how particular Delebon can be about his new playthings."

"You've sold people to this Delebon before?" Eric asked as he continued driving to the address Emile provided.

"Oui. He has particular tastes however. When dear Mozelle enlightened me to young Frank's… uniqueness, I knew I had another opportunity to do business with him."

"Frank's uniqueness? That he's gay?" Eric heard Jacques chortle and slap his knee.

"Gay? She-et Eric. That's Del's favorite flavor."

"Please Jacques, do not let Monsieur Delebon hear you call him that. For that matter, I would prefer you not open your mouth at all. I only need you to keep your eye on Monsieur Hardy for me so that he does not take flight." Emile turned to Eric.

"I'm sorry Eric, I know you would have liked the opportunity to say goodbye to Frank properly, but I am afraid you may find yourself emotionally compromised and find the separation quite _painful_. And besides, Delebon and his constituents find vampires… offensive."

Eric could hear the steering wheel under his hands crack a little as his grip tightened. He chanced a glance in the rearview mirror. Frank's eyes met his briefly then he glanced back down at his shackled hands.

"By offensive, you mean they're scared of vampires?" Eric asked. Emile smiled at his servant's perceptiveness.

"You could say that."

…..

They pulled onto a gravel path that led to a derelict, Katrina-damaged shipyard. Emile gave Eric the command to park the car.

"Monsieur Delebon will be arriving via private yacht. The three of us will escort Monsieur Hardy to the docks. I will give you a moment to say farewell. You will remain parked here in this spot until we return and enter the vehicle. Understood?"

"Yes." Eric seethed.

The three werewolves exited the vehicle and turned their backs to the windows to offer Frank and Eric a little privacy. Eric turned around in his seat and grabbed Frank by his shoulders, drawing him into a bone-crushing embrace. Eric finally allowed the tears that he had been holding back during the drive to flow.

"I'm so sorry Frank. I never meant for any of this to happen. All I had wanted was to be with you, to love you. I never thought things would get so messed up. I'll find a way to get away from Emile! I'll get Amy and Joe and your friends and we'll find you. We'll do what it takes!" Frank said nothing, although Eric could feel dampness on his bare shoulder.

"If you do get away and find Joe, tell him I'm sorry I was so hard on him. And that I'm sorry I kept things from him, I just wanted him to be safe so he could be there for Vanessa and their baby. Tell Amy and Ezekiel I said "thank you" for all their help, protection and generosity. And before Biff kills you, tell him I was sorry for judging him so harshly." Eric pulled away and looked at Frank.

"You're going to tell them all those things when we find you!" But Frank simply shook his head.

The back passenger door opened and Emile commanded for Eric to stay put. Jacques grabbed Frank's arm and roughly pulled him out of the car.

"Frank! No please Emile, don't do this!" But his pleas were cut off by the car door slamming shut. He watched as Emile lead the procession to the docks, Frank shuffled between Jacques and Miguel, his head hung low. Eric noticed Frank had a limp in his step. The serum in his system must be petering out. Why didn't he think to let Frank have a few ounces of his blood before they finished up in the basement? He should have made Frank drink while he had the brunette in the shower washing off Phil's blood. He certainly wasn't in any condition to protest then.

Think Eric, think! Go! Get help! Eric started to open the car door but his head instantly began to flare with pain. He started the car engine and nearly blacked out. Eric glared at his master as he and the others walked further away. Emile had not even broken his stride, he just turned his head to smile smugly and tap his temple with the handle of Frank's cane.

Okay, he could not leave the car and he could not leave _in_ the car. He was stuck, they were screwed! Out of the corner of his eye he spied Emile's cell phone sitting in the passenger seat. He picked it up. Nothing happened. Then it occurred to Eric… if Emile could interpret the terms of their agreement to his advantage, why couldn't he? Emile told him to stay in the car. He didn't say a damned thing about using his phone.

…..

**Author's Note:**

Phil lives! (*cue thunder sound effects and manic-Dr. Frankenstein-laughter*)


	24. Just Give Me a Reason

Chapter 24: Just Give Me a Reason

Frank stood on the dock between the two brutes waiting with Emile for the arrival of Delebon and his people. The night was hot and sticky, the silk pajamas clung to his body and he wished Miguel would stop leering at him. His thigh was throbbing, his ankles and wrists ached and burned and an overall feeling of weakness and feverishness pervaded his being. He recalled Phil skipping days of his vampire blood regimen and he never seemed so weak. Maybe there was something to this iron sensitivity crap the witch had told him about.

Not that it mattered now. Nothing mattered anymore as far as Frank was concerned. Phil was gone. He saw the light leave his eyes and Frank felt like he had died in that basement with him. It seemed so surreal, deep down inside Frank could have sworn that he and Phil had years together. Flashes would appear in the back of his mind from time to time of Phil and him, rings on their fingers and silver in their hair. And lately, just as he would wake in the mornings, he swore he heard the sweet laughter of children fading off in the distance. Daydreams.

Now those daydreams were just that, dreams. Dreams that had evaporated along with Frank's hope and his will to keep going. What did he have to look forward to now, a life of torture, a life of abuse to his body and soul at the hands of strangers? No, he could not live through that. He'd done that before and swore he'd never allow anyone to use him again like that. So long as he knew Phil was alive his life had purpose, he had a reason to carry on. Not now.

He was being selfish, he knew that. What would Joe say? His mom and dad? He could try to find away to survive and hang on for their sakes. If he died, Frank would be robbing his parents of a son, taking away Joe's big brother. Joe and Vanessa were bringing a new life into the family. They had years of promise and growth ahead of them. They could all console themselves in that fact. The niece or nephew he'd never get to know would help fill the whole in their hearts that his absence would leave. It would have to. They would just have to understand…

The hum of a boat motor could be heard in the distance. Then they saw see the boat's lights as it came around the bend. It was a houseboat with two stories. It was sleek and looked like it was meant to handle rougher waters. Where were they going to take him that they planned to get out on open water? Frank vaguely wondered.

Emile turned to Jacques and Miguel and nodded a silent command. Miguel held onto Frank's arm as Jacques walked forward and accepted the rope one of the crew tossed out to tie down the vessel to the dock. Frank began to wonder what kind of people, or beings, these were if they could tolerate wearing such long and hooded cloaks in the muggy August weather this far south. A plank was lowered and affixed to the dock and five very tall, cloaked figures disembarked from the boat.

"Monsieur Delebon, Dolon, friends! Bonsoir et bienvenue en Louisiana!" Emile bowed elegantly before the gathered guests.

"Good Evening Louvel." Dolon stepped forward, and motioned for one of the minions to step up with him. The minion held up an attaché case and released the clasps. Frank guessed there was about a million dollars in U.S. currency in there. Is that how much his life was worth? A million? It certainly was nice to know that if he was going to be sold in to slavery, even in his condition, he drew a high price.

"We are agreed?" Dolon asked as Emile picked up a stack of bills and did a quick count.

"Yes. This is perfect." The minion snapped the case closed and set it on the floor of the dock by his side, guarding the money until the exchange was complete. Miguel led Frank up to stand beside Emile. Emile used the handle of the cane to lift Frank's downcast gaze up to face the small party.

The tallest member of the group stepped forward and lowered his hood. Frank thought he had hit his limit of knowledge for all things supernatural, what with the actual existence of vampires, witches and now werewolves. But he was wrong, so wrong.

The man before him had to be just over seven feet tall. His hair was long and stark white and his skin had a purplish cast to it. Everything about this man seemed to be elongated, from the shape of his face, nose, to his ears which were _pointed_. Black eyes stared at Frank, and the man's long fingers looked like they were itching to touch him.

"_Hello boy, I am Delebon. Dolon tells me your English name is Frank. I understand the name means "Free man". Ironic, yes? Worry not child, we will find a new name for you_."

...

"Get out of the car Eric!" Amy seethed at the sight of that wretched collar on her child. Eric rolled down the car window.

"I can't Amy! I was instructed not to leave the car or drive it anywhere! And every time I try…"

"Serves you right for doing something so foolish! Did you retain nothing that I taught you? Honestly Eric…"

Biff was keeping his distance from the exchange between parent and child vampires. If he had his druthers he would rip the door off the car and stake the bastard once and for all. But out of respect for Amy's relationship with the redhead Biff was letting her deal with the dipshit herself.

He saw Minne and Guy running up the gravel path with lightening speed, followed closely behind by a very bruised looking Phil and the blonde Johan. Biff met Phil halfway and tackled the raven haired boy in a fierce embrace.

"Thank G-d you're okay! What happened?" Biff asked his friend.

"Long story." He snapped, "Why the fuck is that bastard still alive?" Phil charged forward before Biff could stop him.

"Phil, no! Stop!" But the fresh dose of vampire blood coursing through Phil's veins made him just a tad quicker than his athletic friend and he reached the black Mercedes first. He pushed Amy out of the way, flung the driver's side door open and yanked Eric out of the car. The vampire tumbled to the dirt path and finally came to a stop at Biff's feet as he caught up to Phil and Amy.

"You…fucking…bastard…where…is…Frank?" Phil yelled as he let blow after blow rain down on Eric's face. Biff ran around behind Phil and pulled the slighter man off. "Let go of me Biff! Let go or I swear to G-d I'll beat the shit out of you too!"

"Scrappy little thing, isn't he?" Johan muttered to Guy.

Amy approached Phil as he continued to struggle in Biff's grasp and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Be still and save your strength for the battle ahead Phil." Phil stopped struggling, but he was still pissed.

"Werewolves!" Minnie hissed. "Guy can smell them, and something else." Guy said something in Minnie's ear so quietly that no one else could hear. "He doesn't know what it is. They're beings he's never encountered before."

"That has to be Delebon and his people. I've never met them, but from what I gathered from Emile, they're scared of vampires." Eric said as he tried to sit up.

It dawned on him just then that despite the pounding he just took from Phil, his head didn't feel like it was about to explode as it had earlier when he had tried to get out of the car or drive away. Amy caught on to his bewildered expression.

"Your will is not your own now, since you were taken out of the car against your will and did not get out on your own accord, you are safe from your master's wrath, for now." Amy gave Eric a hand and helped him to his feet. "Now answer Phil, where is Frank?"

"Emile and the others headed toward the docks to the left, behind the warehouses."

The group of vampires and humans set out quickly and quietly around the warehouses, clinging to the shadows. There they were, Emile, his cronies, people wearing cloaks, and Frank.

"My G-d they smell so good. My mouth is watering." Minnie whispered and Guy nodded.

"Oh my giddy Aunt! Elves! They're bloody elves! I've only ever heard of them, I've never seen one for real! Its like Christmas and my birthday have arrived on the same day!" Johan enthused. His canines had started to drop in reaction to the delicious smell of elven blood.

"Maybe that's why they're scared of you guys, they're on the menu." Biff said quietly.

…..

Delebon touched Frank's face, running his fingers over the brunette's two-day growth of whiskers. He turned Frank's head and ran his fingers over the tops of his ears.

"_Brother, I assure you he is a fine specimen, but we should really being leaving_." Dolon said in their native language.

"_Patience Dolon. When the day arrives that you receive your first vartyo hauthwaid* of your very own, you will want to savor this moment_." Delebon said as he continued his inspection of Frank's anatomy.

"_But you've had dozens of vartyo hauthwaids_." Dolon said petulantly. Delebon smiled.

"_And I've always shared my playthings with you Brother. And when I've tired of this one, I promise I'll…_"

Frank felt something stir in his chest, a warm, peaceful feeling, a fire, a passion. The kind of feeling he would get when Phil walked into the room, when he would gaze at Frank with those honey and hazel eyes.

"No." Frank didn't even realize he'd said it out loud.

"Quiet boy." Emile hissed, poking Frank in the ribs with the cane.

"No! I'm no one's slave. And I'm not going anywhere with you!" Frank's eyes narrowed and he started to back away from Delebon and Emile.

"Louvel, you said you broke him. Used to have better control of slaves you find for us." Dolon said with a note of condescension. Affronted by the man's comment, Emile raised the cane.

"I'll remedy that right now!"

Emile held the cane by the shaft and brought it down for the blow, but Frank was ready and brought his hands up, letting the chain between his shackles absorb the brunt of the strike. He grabbed the eagle head handle and gave it a sharp twist, then unsheathed the brilliant silver-coated sword. Instinctively the group backed away from Frank as he wielded the sword defensively. But the Weres recovered first.

"Ah, full of surprises aren't you, Monsieur Hardy? But do you really think you can take on all of us, especially in your condition? Your leg is hurting isn't it? Those iron shackles are weakening you by the minute. My Jacques can tackle you and Miguel can take the sword from your hand before you can even blink." Frank smirked and turned the blade toward his self, its tip pressing into the side of his neck.

"But can they get to me before I turn on myself? That would really fuck up your plans, huh Emile? You left Eric in the car, he'll never get to me in time to heal me. So do you think your friends will pay you for a dying slave?"

"No boy! Don't be a fool, put the blade down." Emile tried to gain control of a situation that was growing increasingly out of hand.

Delebon had been watching the drama between Louvel and the boy with amusement, but the unmistakable sense that a predator was near made him snap his head up suddenly and his eyes were filled with panic.

"Agaryulnaerea*!"

"What? What is wrong Monsieur Delebon?" Emile asked. He turned his attention away from Frank and looked around to see what had caused his client such alarm.

"Vampires Delebon senses!"

Sure enough, beneath the harsh glare of a security light, Emile could see five silhouettes approaching.

"Emile Louvel, Delebon! The mortal life of Frank Hardy…" Eric's voice rang out through the shipyard.

"No! Eric I command you to…" He never finished the sentence as Guy charged forward and pinned Emile to the wooden boards of the dock. The elves scrambled for the gangplank, Delebon shouting orders and Dolon grabbed the attaché. The houseboat's engines roared to life and the river water began to froth as the boat was put into reverse.

"…is under my…"

Jacques roared savagely, effectively cutting off Eric's words and before Frank's eyes the man hunched over, his limbs elongated and fur shot out all over his skin. His tattered clothes and shoes ripped and clung to his body in shreds. The werewolf charged Eric, teeth bared and snapping for his neck.

Miguel had done the same and launched himself at the smallest target, Minnie. The vampire dodged him easily, but Miguel turned agilely on the pads of his feet and snagged her leg. The girl shrieked and Guy released Emile to rush to her aid. A melee ensued as Guy and Johan pounced on Miguel to release Minnie. Amy wrapped her arm around Jacques neck in a choke-hold to get the Were off of Eric. Biff and Phil stayed in the shadows, guns trained on the elves and Louvel.

A desperate Emile hopped up and ran to the end of the dock, waving his hands to halt his client's retreat.

"No! Monsieur Delebon! Please come back! Come back!" But the houseboat was too far away now. They weren't coming back. Outraged, Emile turned around and faced Frank.

"You…worthless…" He backhanded Frank, causing the brunette to lose his footing and his grip on the sword. "You've…ruined…everything!" His voice rose in volume and ferocity as the man began his metamorphosis to his second nature. The bridge of his nose lengthened and broadened, his jaw line grew and narrowed and razor sharp teeth joined the ones he bore out menacingly.

Frank scrambled for the sword and just as his hand wrapped around the handle, a strong, clawed hand-paw tore into his left side and he was flipped onto his back. Fire ripped through Frank's flank and he was not able to hold back the scream of pain that consumed him. A weight was suddenly on his chest and his hands were pinned above his head.

"You have been the source of much …_trouble_ for me, Monsieur Hardyyyy." The huge grey werewolf growled. "I will take much pleasure in reaping the fruits of my laborsss!" His enormous maw opened and Frank could see the saliva dripping off of those teeth just before the monster went for his neck.

Before those teeth could tear his flesh, Frank heard a crack of gunfire and Emile jerked back, howling painfully. Frank saw blood pouring out of the werewolf's shoulder and the monster released his wrists as it clamped a paw over the wound. Frank took the opportunity for what it was and thrust the sword in his hand into the closest part of Emile he could reach, his groin. The brunette drove the blade in as far as he could. Emile shuffled and stumbled back, releasing his shoulder and reached for the blade. Before he could pull it out, another shot clipped his other shoulder and the werewolf fell back.

Frank could hear his heart beating in his ears and he tried to roll over and crawl away, but the pain in his side was too much and his energy was spent. The left side of his face was so swollen that his couldn't see out of that eye. The blood loss from the lacerations in his side was taking its toll on his strength and all he could do was lay there, relieved that it was almost over. What "it" was he wasn't sure, things were getting foggy and darkness was encroaching on his vision. His ears could pick up on the sounds of sirens, fighting, grunts and curses. He heard feet pounding on the wooden dock, getting closer. Arms went under his shoulders and knees and he could feel himself being lifted and moved away from the howling animal just a few feet away.

"…Protection!" Emile had finally wrenched the small sword from his groin, blood continued to flow from his shoulder where the bullet was lodged, but it had slowed where it had only grazed him. He ignored the final word that Eric uttered and charged Frank at full speed. When Emile got within three feet of Frank and his rescuer he was suddenly thrown back with an equal amount of force.

"No! Noooo!" Emile bolted past Frank straight for Eric, who had finally made it onto the docks.

Eric ran to meet the werewolf halfway, not noticing the blade still curled in Emile's paw.

"Eric, Stop!" Amy jumped up from where she had finally subdued Jacques, who was unconscious and morphing back into his human form, and began to run after Eric. Biff grabbed her around her waist and held her back.

"No Amy, this is his fight. He got himself into it. He has to finish it to be free." Amy knew he was right, but her instinct to protect her child was overwhelming. She watched helplessly as Eric tackled Emile and they rolled along the dock.

"I…command…you…to…" Eric brought his fist up and silenced Emile in a jaw-breaking uppercut. But he exposed his right flank and Emile jabbed the blade into his side.

"No! Eric!" Amy tried to wrench herself out of Biff's grasp but Eric rebounded and threw Emile off of him. He staggered to his feet, the sword still sticking out of his side, and with a feral roar he rushed Emile. Both vampire and werewolf tumbled off of the pier and into the murky waters of the Mississippi River.

…..

Author's Note:

*Vartyo hauthwaid – Tolkien-esque words mean servent bedmate.

*Agaryulnaerea – Tolkien-esque word for "bloodsucker"

Wow, this chapter took longer than I thought. Action scenes, arghh! Give me a good ole smut scene any day. Oh, and hey, elves, did you see that coming?

Thanks for your patience dear readers.


	25. Thicker Than Water

Chapter 25: Thicker Than Water

Biff finally let go of Amy. She sprinted to the spot where Eric and Emile fell in. Clinging to the wooden boards she leaned over and called out to the water.

"Eric! Eric…" Bubbles appeared on the surface and the unconscious body of Emile Louvel, the man, rose to the top. Biff jumped into the water and grabbed the man, pushing his body up so that Guy and Johan could pull him out. Biff submerged again and after a while resurfaced, panting for fresh air.

"It's too dark, I can't see anything."

"We are too late Allen. Our kind cannot swim. He would be at the bottom by now." Amy said numbly. She reached down and helped Biff out of the water. She did not protest as Biff sank down beside her and pulled her to his soaking wet self.

"He could walk his way out of the river, but the silver in that sword would have killed him."

"I'm so sorry Amy." Amy leaned her head against Biff's shoulder and nodded mutely. They sat there, letting the world and its chaos pass them by.

The dock was now a confusion of sounds and bright flashing colors. Law enforcement and ambulances had arrived by now. Fenton and the Royal Street police captain, Capt. Antony Bordenave, led a group of officers who were cuffing and hauling the dazed and naked Miguel and Jacques to the patrol cars, Miranda rights being read as they stumbled along.

Emile was just coming to as Capt. Bordenave chanted a laundry list of charges while two burly looking officers restrained the Were. Louvel sat there quietly as the charges were read. His jaw was swollen, possibly broken, but the scowl on his face was unmistakable.

"Emile Louvel, yer under arrest for the murder of Mozelle Ledet, for arson, for the illegal use of an explosive device, for the kidnappin' of Frank Hardy…" Bordenave looked back at Frank's battered form and continued with the addition of malicious assault. There were scads of other charges to come from the results of the explosion and damages to the other businesses in Jackson Square and the ensuing chaos throughout the French Quarter.

The first of the gurneys brought down the narrow dock hauled the wounded Emile to a waiting ambulance where the same two burly policemen joined the medical personnel in the cabin. A second group of EMT's trotted down to where Frank lay, cradled in someone's arms. Frank could barely make out the faces that swarmed above him with his one good eye. He heard his father's voice, praising G-d that he had been found, telling Frank he was going to be alright.

Frank heard another voice. _I must be dying_, Frank thought_, this must really be the end_. But the voice spoke again, and he felt familiar fingers brush his forehead, and then there was the clink of a chain. Frank raised his hand and clutched that wrist. Under his fingers he felt the cool metal of a bracelet.

"Phil?"

"I'm here Frank, you're gonna be alright Baby." Frank felt the cold hard plastic of an oxygen mask cover his face. A bandage was pressed to his side, a cervical collar was put in place and one of the EMTs hollered to a police officer for a lock pick.

"We gotta get these damned things off of him so we can start an IV!"

"Sweet Shepherd of Judea! How long have these things been on him? Motherfu…"

The oxygen helped Frank a little, his vision was clearing and his father's and Phil's faces came into focus.

"Phil… I don understan'…you died. I saw you die, I held you…your blood." Phil shook his head, confused by Frank's rambling.

"It wasn't Phil, son. It was that Ledet woman. She's a shape shifter." Fenton whispered, but the EMT heard him anyway.

"Ah man, a shape shifter? G-d those folks creep me out."

"Oh shit!" Phil suddenly realized what Mozelle must have done to him during his ordeal on Bourbon Street.

"I know she's a shifter…," Frank rasped, "but how…"

"Firefighters found Ms. Ledet's body in the perfume shop's basement. She was still wearing Phil's clothes. The blast from the explosion closed a heavy basement door. It sealed her in there and protected her body from the fire."

Frank didn't even notice that the shackles were finally removed from his ankles and wrist, or that the EMT was inserting the IV line. He did feel an overwhelming sense of peace and calm.

"Sir, we've got to move him now." Fenton moved out of the way but Phil followed the EMTs to the ambulance.

"Tulane's gonna be a mess with patients from the explosion. We're gonna send yer boy to LSU. Okay?" Capt. Bordenave said as he placed a reassuring hand on Fenton's shoulder.

"Yes, um, thank you. What about Louvel and his men?"

"Don't worry, we got a _special_ place for their kind. Those two officers who went with Louvel are werewolves too. They'll keep him in line."

"So, shape shifters, witches, Weres, vampires…you're _familiar_ with all of this?" Fenton asked hesitantly. Capt. Bordenave gave Mr. Hardy a wide smile that contrasted sharply with his dark skin.

"Welcome to _N'awlins_, Mr. Hardy."

…..

"Phil! Oy mate! Is there anyway we can help?" Johan, Guy and a limping Minnie jogged over to Phil as the medics loaded Frank into the ambulance. Blood was soaking the bandage the EMTs had placed on Frank's side, and the vampires knew the wound needed closing, not to mention the smell of fresh blood was irresistible. Before Phil could answer an older medic looked out of the cabin and shook his head.

"Sorry ya'll, but it won't do no good. Weres carry a bacteria that's hella infectious and your spit won't heal it." Phil was shocked that the older man, Remy according to his name tag, had a working knowledge of supernatural medicine. His disbelief was evident on his face.

"But if one of ya'll is willing to donate, hop aboard. Just keep yer teeth to yerself. I got a shitload of silver instruments in here." He warned.

"Wait! I've got a vial…here!" Phil reached into his pocket and presented the medic with the vampire blood.

"Thanks son." Remy turned to Frank and removed the oxygen mask. "Alright Frank, you're gonna swallow this and keep it down. Ya hear?" Frank's eye fluttered open and he voluntarily opened his mouth. He grimaced when the taste hit his is tongue, but he swallowed and closed his eye.

"That won't fight the bacteria, but it'll give him a little more strength and supplement the blood loss. Alright, we're ready to roll. LSU here we come!"

Frank couldn't move his head because of the collar, but he reached out with his left hand in the general direction he thought Phil was in. Phil hopped up into the cabin and held Frank's hand in both of his.

"Phil?" He said drowsily.

"Yeah Baby?"

"Stay with me?"

"Always."

…..

_The backyard was filled with the laughter and games of children playing. Laura loved Easter, Laura loved any occasion when her family gathered together and the grandkids could run and play in the backyard. Frank, Joe and their spouses were inside playing a game of Scrabble and joking around. Fenton sat beside Laura, dozing in a lawn chair. Aunt Gertrude graced her other side, knitting and smiling giddily. Poor thing had been working on that same scarf for two months now. Laura knew eventually she and Fenton were going to have to have "the talk" about getting Gertie tested for dementia or Alzheimer's. All the signs were there, it was just a matter of shaking Fenton out of his state of denial. _

_As she took another sip of her sweet tea, she gazed fondly at her grandchildren. Brian was the tallest of the lot, he favored Vanessa in his appearance, but he had that spirit of mischief that screamed, "I'm Joe Hardy's son alright!" Christopher was a happy child, but he tended to be a little shy, he reminded Laura of Frank when he was little. But he was quick with a smile, especially when his cousin David tackled him and they would fall to the ground in a fit of giggles. Allison was a tomboy through and through. She could keep up with Brian and challenge him to any sport. _

_Laura sighed. Sadly, Allison wasn't her first granddaughter and Brian wasn't her first grandchild. But she liked to think that the spirit of the little girl Joe and Vanessa lost so early in their marriage was up there somewhere looking down on her siblings and cousins watching over them. Wasn't that life? You had to taste the bitter in order to appreciate the sweet._

_The breeze in the backyard picked up and a delightfully warm current of air rustled the leaves on the trees. The hyacinths in the back garden were in full bloom and their lovely aroma wafted under Laura's nose. Then she smelled something else on the breeze, something herbal. Laura didn't have an herb garden and neither did the neighbors. Dizziness overcame her and she grabbed her forehead. _

_"Laura? Laura, are you okay?" She looked around, the children were still playing in the yard and Fenton was still snoozing in his chair. Gertrude was knitting, but instead of that same misshapen square of burgundy, the beginnings of a pretty light blue sweater sat in her lap. Laura stared at the sweater and her brows furrowed in confusion._

_"Ashleigh! Ashleigh honey, come here and bring your grandmother a glass of tea." Gertrude hollered into the house. Laura could hear shuffling in the kitchen and Vanessa's gentle voice talking to someone. The back door opened and out walked a willowy young girl with blonde hair pulled back into a long plait. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks and she held out a frosty glass of ice tea._

_"Here you go Gran. Are you okay?" Laura stared at the girl as a thousand memories flashed before her eyes: Ashleigh's eventful birth, her christening, the mess she made of her first birthday cake, and countless other childhood milestones. _

_"I'm fine sweetheart, more than fine." She accepted the glass and the girl smiled. Ashleigh turned her freckled face to the backyard and called out to her cousin._

_"Allison, wanna come in and let me braid your hair? Mom let me bring some nail polish, so I can paint our nails."_

_"What? No way! G-d, you're such a girlie girl." Allison called back._

_"Allison Hardy! You come right here and apologize to Ashleigh! And don't let me ever hear you taking the Lord's name in vain…" Aunt Gertrude snapped in her old waspish way. _

_Laura was quiet as she took it all in. Something had changed. Fate had changed. How?_

Laura snapped her eyes open. She was in the hospital's chapel again, the only place she could go to quietly meditate. She hopped up from her pew and dashed for the obstetrics ward. A middle aged woman with brilliant red hair was stepping out of Vanessa's room as Laura entered the corridor. She was clutching a canvas bag to her side and looked like she was trying to leave unnoticed. But Laura was in front of her before she realized anyone had seen her and the woman jumped, startled by Mrs. Hardy's sudden presence.

"Riona Magee, what have you done?"

…..

LouisianaStateUniversityMedicalCenter was slow for a Saturday night. But when the medics wheeled in Frank Hardy the place started jumping with activity. The Remy pulled the attending physician aside and discretely whispered something in his ear. The doctor nodded and turned to the nurse behind the counter.

"Call in Dr. Schwartz. This is her field of expertise." The nurse's eyes widened alarm and she dutifully picked up the telephone to page her. The medic noticed Phil's questioning gaze.

"Dr. Schwartz has experience in supernatural medicine. If I ever got mauled by a werewolf, she's who I'd want by my side." Remy whispered. Phil nodded, trusting the medic and followed Frank's gurney to a room toward the back of the emergency department.

Capt. Bordenave arrived a few minutes later with Fenton and he escorted Mr. Hardy through the department to the room where Frank was being treated in. A curtain was drawn and Phil was sitting in a chair on the other side, pale and fidgeting. Fenton could see several pairs of feet moving around the gurney, and then a blood-soaked dressing was dropped onto the floor with a wet splat. Fenton paled too at thought of his son losing so much blood. He sat down beside Phil and looked gratefully up to Capt. Bordenave.

"Thank you for all your help Captain." Bordenave shook his hand.

"Glad to help. I'll give you a call after we interrogate those three. Hope your son'll be okay, he's in good hands here." Capt. Bordenave took his leave and Fenton turned to Phil.

"What do we know?"

"Not much, other than they're scared Frank may get an infection from those tears, something about a bacteria carried by werewolves." Phil said quietly. A radiology technician poked his head in and politely asked Fenton and Phil to step out while he took a few x-rays to help determine the extent of Frank's injuries. While they waited in the hallway, they both decided now was a good time to alert everyone that Frank had been found. At least that would be some good news to end this awful day with.

…..

Dr. Bluma Schwartz was not the kind of person one would think worked in a big university hospital like LSU. She was a petite woman with olive skin, well, nothing unusual there. But she wore her black and silver streaked hair in a frizzy ponytail. A colorful tie-dyed t-shirt and cargo shorts could be seen under her white doctor's coat. And pepto-pink polished toenails peeked out of the hiking sandals she wore. If anything, she looked like she belonged in the pediatrics ward, or a veterinary clinic.

After a preliminary exam that lasted about an hour, the doctor came out from behind the curtain to address Fenton and Phil. She pulled up a chair and clapped her hands together before settling them into her lap.

"Mr. Hardy, Mr. Cohen, I'm going to start with what I'm sure of, then we'll venture into the uncertainties." Fenton straightened in his seat and Phil leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and bouncing nervously.

"Frank has a hairline fracture in his cheekbone. It's not a complete break, so no surgery is need. It should knit back just fine as long as he takes it easy and doesn't do anything crazy like jumping jacks or skydiving. But he's going to be swollen and black and blue for a while. Now…" She took a breath. "Now for the tricky bit. Um, Mr. Hardy, may I have your hand for a moment." Fenton looked at her skeptically but proffered his hand anyway. She turned his hand over and pressed her fingers to his wrist as one would when they check for a pulse. After a moment Dr. Schwartz shook her head in disappointment. "I may be shooting for the moon, but may I check you too, Mr. Cohen?" Phil let her check his wrist, but she didn't seem nearly as disappointed as when she checked Fenton.

"Mr. Hardy, you are Frank's biological father, yes?" Fenton was shocked. He had never been asked such a preposterous question. Frank looked like Fenton had been the one to spit him out they favored each other so much, even though Frank was of a slighter build than he or Joe.

"Yes, I'm pretty damn sure I'm his father." Fenton answered crossly. "Where are you going with this? And what does checking our pulse have to do with Frank…" _Oh my_, thought Dr. Schwartz as the worried father continued to rant. If Mr. Hardy has no clue why she would be asking these questions, then it certainly wasn't her place to let the cat out of the bag. She had to think of a delicate way to get her point across.

"Is Frank's biological mother still living?" Fenton was fretted that the doctor had evaded his question.

"Yes, she's in New York with our other son and his wife."

"He has a brother? That's great! Mr. Hardy, you son has a… unique _element_ in his blood. I was checking to see if you or Mr. Cohen shared it."

"By touching us?"

"Let's just say I have a knack for it." Dr. Schwartz cleared her throat and began again. "We're going start him on some powerful antibiotics through his IV to curtail any possible infection from the werewolf mauling. And we'll also begin a transfusion with donor blood to replenish the blood loss. But it would be best if either his mother or brother could come down here as soon as possible."

…

**Author's Note:**

Hey ya'll. Wanna do something fun? Let's cast your favorite celebs in the rolls of your favorite Hardy Boys characters.

I'll get the ball rolling with this tidbit. When I was writing "Some Nights" I modeled Old Man Hooper after actor Sam Elliot. I had other celebs or personalities in mind while I was working on the other characters, but I'd like to know what you all imagine as you're reading.

Don't be shy, I don't bite, and if you wish to remain anon that's fine, but let's get the conversation started.


	26. No One Mourns The Wicked

Chapter 26: No One Mourns the Wicked

"Don't get yer knickers in twist Lala. I got a call from friend who said yer daughter-in-law was here. I taught I'd come by and check on her." Riona Magee stepped back a little, the color rising in her plump face.

"Don't call me Lala!" Laura hissed in a hushed tone. "And how in the hell did you slip in here this late at night?" Riona shrugged with a look of mock innocence.

"Look, a friend of yer sons' said things didn't look good for the babe. I just came by to see if I could help."

"You used _magic_ on my grandchild and daughter-in-law?" Laura whispered. She didn't know if she should laugh with relief, cry for joy or just punch the woman.

"A tank you would be nice." Riona said. "Now Lala, you know I abide by the _first, do no harm_ credo." Riona insisted. She put a comforting arm around Laura's shoulders and steered her away from the room. "Besides, little Joe and Vanessa were asleep the whole time. They didn't even know I was there."

"Ugh, what does an aneurysm feel like?" Laura murmured as she rubbed her temples.

"Look, can we call ourselves even now? You helped me when I was in a pickle. Now I've done a good turn for you."

Laura had really hoped she would never have to cash in that favor Riona had promised her all those years ago. It would suit her just fine to live out her days and pretend that what innocent and petite Laura Hardy did to help a pregnant and battered Riona Hayes had never happened. If Fenton ever found out about _that_, then it would just open a big old can of worms that Laura preferred to keep shut.

But Riona had sworn on her own life that if ever Laura's family were ever in a crisis, she would be more than happy to lend her special skills to help. So, it was done now. Nothing more to say, except…

"Thank you Ree. I… didn't mean to sound so ungrateful. I just wanted to keep all that behind me."

"But _I_ can't. I look at my two, beautiful daughters everyday and I tank the dear sweet Lord that I'm alive to watch them grow into the women they are. And I say a special prayer for the friend who helped make that possible."

"Oh, Ree…" Laura hugged the other woman warmly. "It _has_ been too long since we've been in touch. I only have myself to blame. How are the girls?"

"They're fine, still live nearby. Ya know somethin'? I would never have made the connection that Frank was your son if I hadn't met him when we put that enchantment on his house a week or so ago." Riona smiled.

"You what?"

"Oh shite. Lala, I…"

A tinny version of Lionel Richie singing "Endless Love" could be heard coming from Laura's purse. That was Fenton calling.

"I have to take this Ree. But this conversation is not over." Laura rambled through her purse to find her cell phone at the very bottom. When she looked up, Riona Magee was gone.

…..

"He's in a hospital down here. Then I guess they'll hold him and his buddies in jail until the hearing. I'm sure there will the trial for the girl's murder, Frank's kidnapping, and he's got a long list of other charges too." Stanley Woods could tell Biff was tired. It was evident in the way he sighed and yawned the whole time he talked.

"So, he goes by Emile Louvel these days? That's a good one. It means Rival Wolf." said Stanley.

"Wonder what his real name is."

"No telling, it would tickle the hell out of me if it was something corny or simple, like Bob Smith. He was always such a smug bast- uh, son of a gun." Stanley's pajama-clad daughter padded through the kitchen just then and got a gallon of milk out of the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass and smiled at her father, doing her best to stay quiet so that she wouldn't disturb her father's telephone conversation.

For the first time in a long time, Stanley could breathe a sigh of relief. The deadliest werewolf he had ever known, The Nose, Le Nez, Argent Chase, Emile Louvel, whoever he claimed to be, was behind bars. His grandfather's murderer would not see the light of day for a very long time. And if he could pull a few strings with some of his extended lupine family who happened to be employed by Louisiana's correctional system, Emile Louvel would never see the day of his trial either.

…..

Biff dried off from his shower and wrapped the towel around his waist. He walked out into the bedroom and turned out the lights. Although there were several more hours to go until daylight, Amy was already in bed. She had bathed while Biff was on the phone with Stanley.

"Are you asleep?" Biff asked simply.

"No." was the bland reply.

"Want some company?" Silence.

"I'm going to crash in the other room."

"Allen?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me?" Amy's voice sounded so small. Biff slid into the bed with her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He kissed her shoulder, but made no other moves.

"I do not know how Magnus did it Allen, when he would have to cut down one of his own children. There is a connection with a vampire and their child, and when it's severed…It hurts. I have only felt this pain twice before, centuries ago when my own human sons we taken from me." Biff pulled Amy's lithe body closer to his, and buried his face in the back of her cool neck.

"He was delusional, and immature. But deep down, he had a good heart."

"He _raped_ Frank, Amy."

"I am aware of that Allen, I was there. What Eric did was unforgivable. But the enchantment Eric evoked at the end… if he had lived, he would never have the ability to perform a malicious or nonconsensual act toward Frank ever again. He would have been obligated to protect Frank for the rest of his mortal life, like Ezekiel and I have committed to."

But he didn't commit to protecting Phil, Biff thought. Nothing would have prevented Eric from doing his friend in even if he could no longer have Frank. As awful as someone dying is, Biff was secretly glad Eric was gone. However, he'd never say that to Amy.

Amy had gone still under his arms. He brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek and found dampness there. Biff took a deep breath and nestled deeper into the bed. They had both lost people they loved and they had both killed to protect those they loved. It was the _who_ and the _why_ that were the only differences.

…..

Frank opened his eye and glanced around the dimly lit room. Everything was blurry. Great. What did emergency room professionals have against contact lenses? He could move his neck now, the cervical collar was gone, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Frank raised a hand to rub his face. Owww, that was a mistake. His limbs and joints had a flu-like ache to them. Frank's bad leg, head and the left side of his face throbbed and his side was on fire. Frank's wrists and ankles were covered in heavy gauze and his I.V. line burned at the insertion site.

He heard a soft snore to his left, so he slowly turned his head. Someone shaped like his father was sacked out in a reclining chair, his clothes were sweat-stained and rumpled and his shirt tails were uncharacteristically untucked. Frank heard the sound of shuffling to his right. Phil was sleeping fitfully in another reclining chair that was pushed up against the side of his bed.

Phil's hand was resting on the mattress like he had been holding Frank's hand, but in sleep he must have let go. He looked like hell. Phil had dark circles under his eyes, bruising on his left cheek and dark facial hair was prominent on his jaw and chin. The humidity wasn't doing his hair any favors as it had gone wild and curly.

But Phil was alive. He was alive and breathing. Frank touched his hand and felt the warm, smooth skin there. He gently squeezed Phil's hand, and his fiancée squeezed back unconsciously. Frank swallowed dryly as the weight of guilt pressed down on him. Phil had been alive this whole time and Frank had almost thrown his life way. He had almost given it all up because he had lost hope, mistakenly thinking that the only beacon in his life had been snuffed out.

"_Thank you_." Frank closed his eyes and prayed. He had always believed in G-d, but wasn't sure if He still listened to Frank's prayers. But right now he wasn't asking for anything, just saying thanks for his love still being alive, and maybe G-d would hear that. "_Thank you for bringing Phillip back to me. And I'm sorry I thought about ending this life you gave me_."

"_Frank, can I ask you something_?" a voice asked.

"_What_?"

"_Do you think you can you find it in your heart to forgive me?_"

"_I don't know…_"

"Frank? Baby? Who are you talking to?" Phil rubbed his eyes and sat up a little straighter. But Frank didn't answer him. Instead he continued to mumble quietly, staring up the ceiling tiles.

Before the foot of Frank's bed stood Eric Langhorne. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a faded University of Bayport t-shirt.

"_Why did you do what you did to me? Why couldn't you just let me go when we ended things? You raped me, you abused me. You went to all that trouble with Emile to get me, but then you said you're sorry. I'll never understand you…_"

"Fenton, hey Mr. H! Wake up!" Phil had crossed the room to where Fenton was sleeping and shook his future father-in-law's shoulder.

"Hmmm? Whazit?"

"Frank's talking out of his head. Keep an eye on him while I go get a nurse." Phil said quietly. Fenton nodded and went to his son's side.

"Frank? Son, it's Dad. Hey, look over here buddy." Fenton was sure to be in Frank's line of sight and close enough for him to see.

"_But you're gone now. We're free and I'm going to marry Phil and you can't do a damned thing about it!_" Frank smiled as Eric grimaced and turned away.

"_Yeah, keep on walking! That's all you've ever done when things got too hot for you to handle. Run away Eric!_"

"He's got a temperature of a hundred and five."

"Shontal, give him eight hundred milligrams of Ibuprofen. Peggy, how about a couple of ice packs?" ordered the charge nurse.

"Frank, can you hear me?" One of the nurses ran a penlight in front of Frank's eyes.

"I've paged Dr. Schwartz, Eula."

"Thanks Tess."

"Gotta be his kidneys, urine output in almost nil."

"Frank, honey can you take a deep breath for me?" Frank muttered something, and tapped the mattress beside him.

"He's delirious." Eula observed. She tried to listen to Frank's chest, and then pulled the earpieces of her stethoscope out of her ears. "I don't like what I'm hearing. Call radiology and let's get a chest x-ray ready for Dr. Schwartz to read when she gets here."

"Blood pressure's eighty over fifty."

"Crap. Alright we've gotta keep his chest elevated, Tess, grab some SCD boots. Shontal, get rid of that cannula and put the mask on him, increase the oxygen..."

…..

_"So Dad, did you ever forgive him?" David asked. Frank patted the space on the step beside him for his son to join him._

_"I didn't get the chance to before he died." Frank confided._

_"Ouch." _

_"Ironically, he died saving my life, protecting me."_

_"Day-um!"_

_"David…" Frank said in a warning tone._

_"Sorry Dad." The boy muttered._

_"But in order for me to have any kind of peace and to fully heal, in here" Frank pointed to his chest, "And here" he pointed to his head, "I did finally forgive him… but it took a while."_

...

Eric stood at the foot of Frank's bed again. Nurses rushed here and there, pressing ice packs to Frank's forehead, neck and under his arms. They were speaking to Frank, talking to each other, but Frank couldn't make out what they were saying. He didn't really care. Frank's attention was focused on Eric. This time his skin was pale and he was wearing a pair if white dress pants and a lavender shirt.

"_You_ _were trying to apologize down there, but were you really sorry for what happened_?"

"_I just wanted to love you Frank. But I went about it the wrong way_."

"_I'll say_."

"_When I watched you while Phil was dying, I think I finally understood what you meant. Putting the one you love first. I didn't and it led to disaster. I hope one day you can forgive me_."

"_I don't know if I ever can. But I can thank you. Thank you for casting that protection enchantment at the end. And thank you for saving me and Phil._"

Eric smiled finally and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"_Well, I guess that's a start_."

…

**Author's Note:**

I imagine once Frank gets out of the hospital this time, Phil's going to put him in a bubble until the wedding. Lol!

Oh, the new cover art for MoonRiver and Some Nights is credited to Luckypressure on tumblr. I'm a huge Klaine fan and I love her work. Her depiction of those lovable characters reminds me of Frank and Phil.


	27. A Mother's Gift

Chapter 27: A Mother's Gift

"Mr. Hardy, have you heard from your wife? Do you know what time her flight gets in?" Dr. Schwartz's face was grave as she approached the worried father in the corridor. Fenton ran a hand through his limp hair and looked at his watch.

"She called me two hours ago just after the plane took off. I'd say she's got another hour in the air before they land."

"What has gone wrong?" Phil asked the doctor, "He seemed stable before midnight."

"He's going into septic shock." Dr. Schwartz didn't know how much to reveal before Frank's mother could get there. "The sensitivity he has to iron, like the shackles he was bound in during his captivity, has weakened is immune system. Despite the introduction of the antibiotics, his body has turned into a playground for the werewolf's bacterium. The sooner Mrs. Hardy can get here so I can draw some of her blood, the better."

"Do you mean to tell me there is no other donor blood in the blood bank that comes close to his?" Fenton was about to go out of his mind. None of this supernatural medicine was making sense to him. How could bacteria cause sepsis so quickly? What was this element in Frank's blood that Dr. Schwartz kept dancing around? And why would his wife's or Joe's blood make a difference when his own wouldn't? It's not like plain ole human blood could do anything special like he was told vampire blood could.

…..

_Laura pulled back the curtains and raised the blinds of the bedroom window. She peered down below to the snow-covered yard. Her youngest son was pulling a sled behind him with one of the smaller neighbor boys riding on it and laughing. A fluid filled cough drew her attention back to her older son, who was still tucked in bed._

_"Morning sweetie." She said as she walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. She ran her fingers through the chestnut locks and kissed the feverish forehead beneath._

_"What time is it?" Frank asked, trying to sit up on his pillows._

_"About ten o'clock. You were sleeping so well I didn't want to disturb you, it was the first full night of rest you've had in days."_

_"Is Joe still asleep?"_

_"No, he's outside playing with Jerry. It snowed again last night."_

_"What? No fair!" Frank sat up straighter in the bed, but Laura pushed him back down._

_"It's plenty fair. He hasn't had a fever in two days and he doesn't have a sore throat anymore." Frank groaned and turned onto his side in a huff._

_"It's still no fair. I got sick before he did but he got well first." _

_"Maybe you take after me. I got sick a lot when I was little. It would take me a while to feel better too."_

_"I'm not little." Frank sulked._

_"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Nine-year-old." Laura leant down and kissed his cheek. She half expected Frank to wiggle and complain, but he smiled instead._

_"Thanks Mom."_

_"For what Honey?"_

_"For… I just feel better when you do that." His cheeks reddened a little._

_"Would you like to come downstairs and camp out on the couch?" _

_"Sure."_

_Sometime later, after Frank managed to keep down a glass of orange juice and took a few bites of an Eggo waffle, he and his mother were settled on the sofa near the fireplace. The boy rested his head in her lap and Laura lazily ran her fingers through his hair with one hand, her own head resting in the palm of her hand. _

_Things were so different when Frank and Joe were tiny. If they were croupy, teething or feverish she could nestle them to her chest and soothe their aches away. And their presence was a balm to her soul when she felt down, even a kiss from their tiny mouths on her cheek made her feel better when she was having a bad day._

_But boys being boys, they didn't yearn for their mother's healing touch as they got older. Any attempts to coddle them were met with wriggling and complaints of "Moooommmmm! I'm not a baby anymore!" _

_From what little she could remember of her mother, Laura could recall hours spent with her stroking her cheek, singing her foreign lullaby. Her features had blurred over time, but she could remember the long blonde hair, soft, thin hands, and the way she would make her giggle when she tickled behind her ears. _

_Frank shuffled under the blanket and sat up, rubbing his eyes._

_"Good nap?" Laura asked._

_"Yeah, I feel a little better too." Frank coughed again and she patted his back. Laura grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table as she could hear the wetness rattling around and her son's coughing sounded fuller. He accepted the tissue just as the mucus came up and Frank made a disgusted face._

_"Ick!"_

_"I know Honey. But at least that mess is finally breaking up." _

_The back door opened and slammed shut. Laura heard stomping and the thump of boots being deposited in the hallway. _

_"Hey Frank! Feeling better?" Joe's nose and cheeks were beet red and his hair was damp from rolling around in the snow._

_"Yeah, some." Frank shrugged as he eyed his brother enviously. It was the best snowfall they'd had all winter and he was stuck inside while his brother got to play in it._

_"Joe sweetie, go upstairs and put on some dry clothes and towel off your hair before you get sick again."_

_"Okay Mom." He kissed her cheek as he walked past and bounded up the stairs. _

_"Frank, why don't you pick out a movie, anything you like, and we'll watch it." Frank smiled and pulled out an old favorite, Toy Story. The tape was staticky in places where it had been played so much, but it was one of Frank's favorites._

_They spent the rest of the afternoon, all three of them, cuddled on the couch and munching on popcorn, laughing at the banter between Buzz and Woody. When the movie was over and Joe hit the rewind button on the remote control, Frank rose up and kissed his mother on her cheek._

_"Thanks, Mom. You always know how to make me feel better."_

…..

Dr. Schwartz closed the door behind herself. She regarded the petite woman who was sitting in the hematology lab at such a late hour of the night. Well, correction, such an early hour of the morning. Mrs. Hardy looked as tired as Dr. Schwartz felt.

"May I, Mrs. Hardy?" Dr. Schwartz asked as she sat down across from Laura, pointing to Laura's arm.

"Sure." Dr. Schwartz touched Mrs. Hardy's wrist and closed her eyes. Immediately she could sense what she had been hoping to find for hours.

"Wow." Bluma said before she realized the words had left her mouth.

"Doctor?"

"I just… you're the first full-bl…" Laura jerked her arm away and began to roll up her sleeve.

"I have rolling veins. Tell your nurse she'll need the butterfly needle." Laura snapped.

"I'm sorry your family is going through such a rough time right now Mrs. Hardy." Bluma moved out of the way for the lab technician to prepare Laura's arm with an alcohol swab and rubber tourniquet.

"About three tubes ought to be enough to get Frank back on the road to recovery, since you're..." Dr. Schwartz hesitated due to the glare Laura shot her. "Once we get him to break that fever, we'll take him into surgery for a debridement of the wound. Then we'll apply a wound vac to the lacerations to speed up the healing. Do you plan on staying around for a few days incase we need you again?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

…..

"Phil honey, would you open the blinds?" Laura asked sweetly.

"Sure Mama Hardy." Phil stretched as he stood from the recliner and Laura could actually hear his joints pop and crack from hours of sitting.

The open blinds revealed a colorful morning sky of orange and pink hues. Phil yawned and returned to his seat.

"Honey, why don't you go back to the room and get some sleep? Maybe a shower too?" Laura wrinkled her perky nose. Phil laughed mid-yawn.

"I got a few hours of sleep here in the chair. You're the one who traveled all night."

"I slept on the plane. Well, tried to sleep a little. Jack brought his wife Judy along. They figured they'd hang out down here until we were ready to head back. Their anniversary's next weekend anyway, so they're getting an early start on their celebration. And so she wanted to talk about Creole recipes and Cajun food and which restaurants she wanted to hit…" Laura stopped and yawned too.

"Really, Laura, why don't _you_ go rest?" But Frank's mother shook her head.

Fenton walked in with a cardboard tray bearing cups of hot coffee. He set the tray on the rolling table near Frank's bed and passed a cup to Laura and Phil.

"Anything new with Sleeping Beauty?" He asked as he sat on the mattress beside his son's right hip.

"He's still out of it. But at least his fever's coming down and he's actually sleeping now, and not experiencing the delirium. That was really getting to me." Phil said.

"I can't say I'm sorry I missed that." Laura chuckled. "Frank would talk in his sleep when he was a kid. It was worse when he was sick. He'd lay there with his eyes closed and just carry on a conversation like someone else was there."

"I think he was reliving some of what went on while he was kidnapped. He kept rambling about Eric." Phil realized just then that his sleep deprived mind had let his mouth slip.

"Eric? What's he got to do with anything? He's been dead for almost a year." Laura asked.

"Ahhh…" Phil was trying to backpedal. "He uh… I dunno. He's been mumbling about all kinds of things." Phil turned to look out of the window, hoping Mrs. Hardy would drop the subject.

"Phillip Aaron Cohen. I've known you for over half your life and I can tell when you're lying. Now, what are you talking about?" Phil gave Fenton and helpless look, but the man seemed to be at as much of a loss for what to do as Phil did.

"Mrs. Hardy, you're going to find some of this pretty hard to believe."

Laura leaned forward, looking more serious than he'd ever known her to be.

"Try me."

…..

Joe shifted on his cot and turned over. It was morning finally. He sat up and gazed at Vanessa who had managed to roll over onto her side while she slept. Her legs were tucked up near her body and the foot of the bed was still elevated.

"Well, that's doing you a lot of good." He murmured and stood to press the control to let the end of the bed down even with the top half. Vanessa's cheeks looked pinker, and the circles under her eyes didn't look as dark. Joe kissed her and sat back down on his cot to check his phone. There was a text from his mom that she had arrived in New Orleans in one piece and was at the hospital with Frank. He sent a reply asking how Frank was doing this morning and then set the phone on the bedside table.

There was a soft knock at the door and Joe looked up to see Chet standing there.

"Just got done with my shift. How's she doing?" The redhead whispered as he entered the small room.

"She had a peaceful night. Her color looks better this morning." Joe replied quietly.

"Good."

"They found Frank."

"Oh my G-d, is he okay?" Chet sat down in a chair close to Joe's cot. Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Mom had to go down there. He's sick."

"Ah shit."

"Did Biff's cousin ever school you on werewolf-inflicted injuries?"

"Afraid not, the locals are considered friendly. I guess he didn't think it was necessary."

"Well, they're not so much down there. Oh, and Eric's finally dead. _Dead_ dead."

"Thank you Jesus." Chet smiled.

"I know. Maybe things will be different for Frank and Phil now. _Better_ different."

"They found Frank?" Vanessa croaked sleepily.

"Good morning Van." Chet stood to make his presence known.

"Heyyyy Chet." She said and licked her dry lips.

"Want some water Baby?" Joe asked.

"Sure."

"Well look, I'll leave you two alone. Last night was crazy down in the E.R. I'm beat." He squeezed Vanessa's big toe through the blanket. "Check on you before my shift begins tonight."

"Thanks Chet." Vanessa smiled and sipped on her ice water.

When the nurse left Joe squeezed in beside Vanessa in the bed and filled her in on everything he knew about Frank's rescue. Everything, at least what Phil and Biff had been able to tell him last night before his mother got the urgent call to come to New Orleans.

"I know you wish you could be there for him. I wish I had been awake, I would have made you go." said Vanessa as she leaned her head on Joe's shoulder. Joe turned and kissed the top of her head and gave her a loving squeeze around her shoulders.

"Frank's going to be okay. I can feel it. Right now I'm where I need to be."

…..

For the second time in three days, Fenton Hardy found himself sitting in stunned silence. He watched as his wife, diminutive, maternal, soft-spoken Laura, listened to Phil's tale of vampires and werewolves and witches and shape shifters without so much as a squawk or a gasp. She even asked pointed questions about Frank's previous abduction back in January, making Phil come clean about details that he and Joe had covered up back then, thinking the Hardy parents would have a hard time believing them.

"So the son of a bitch is finally dead?" Laura asked.

"Laura!" Fenton said, astonished at his wife's use of such language.

"Well I'm sorry Fenton, but the S.O.B. sat at my dining room table, ate our food and we treated him with respect and warmth like he was a member of the family. And the whole time he had the capacity to treat our son so horribly? Phillip, you probably did right by not telling me the truth before, because I would have hunted him down and killed him myself!" Fenton chuckled at his wife's feistiness.

"I'm serious Fenton." Laura stood to rinse out her coffee cup in the sink before tossing it in the rubbish bin.

"Phil, did you ever find out who those people were on the houseboat that got away? They were too far down river for me to see by the time Captain Bordenave and I got there." Fenton asked before he took his last swallow of coffee.

"The other vampires said they were elves." Phil said.

"Elves?" An odd look crossed Fenton's face that Phil couldn't quite read, like he was trying to recollect something that happened a long time ago.

"Yeah. And that werewolf, Emile, kept hollering for someone called Delebon…" Fenton heard Laura stumble and turned to her just in time to see his ashen-faced wife grab the back of her chair and her knees gave way under her.

…..

Phil looked at his watch when Mrs. Hardy re-entered Frank's hospital room just after lunchtime later that day.

"I wasn't expecting you until after dinner Laura." Phil said as a more refreshed looking Laura placed her purse in the tiny hospital room closet. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I guess the excitement and worry from the last few days finally caught up to me. Plus, Fenton didn't pack his C-pap machine. His snoring was keeping me awake, so I thought I'd come back and send you to the room to get some rest." Phil sighed with resignation.

"I'm not going to fight you this time. I'm at least going to take a shower, I feel kind of ripe." He pulled at the neck of his shirt and screwed up his face in mock disgust. Phil rose and gave Frank a parting kiss on his forehead. As he bent to give Laura a kiss on the cheek, his future mother-in-law wrapped him in a hug.

"Thank you Phillip. Thank you for being there for Frank, and for looking after him." The woman almost seemed weepy when she stepped back from the curly-haired boy. It had been a physically and emotionally taxing weekend.

"Call me if anything changes. Okay Mama?"

"Okay Phil."

Finally alone with her son, Laura took Frank's hand and held it to her cheek. She kissed the rough palm and hummed a melody from her childhood. Hopefully Delebon was far, far away and back under the rock he crawled out from under. Nothing from her meditations indicated that the dark elf had touched their lives in anyway. And even if it meant revealing everything she had worked so hard for so many years to keep hidden, she would make sure it stayed that way.

Laura decided to distract herself by studying her son's face. Frank looked so much like Fenton when he was in his early twenties. She noticed his eyes rolling back and forth under his lids and he began to mumble in his sleep again. He didn't feel any warmer and Laura hoped this wasn't another fever dream, but then she heard him say something…

"Allison… No no, Daddy will get for you… don't cry…" Laura leaned in closer. Did he just say Allison? Oh come on, there was no way that he could…

"Dave, stop… Don't tease your sister like that…" Surely she was mistaken, but could it be possible? Did Frank share her gift? Or curse, as some of the things she saw scared the living daylights out of her.

But how could he? Surely if he did he wouldn't have made half the decisions he'd made in his life or charged in to the dangers he found himself caught up in. But it would explain a few things from his childhood that she had cast off as Frank just talking in his sleep. Now Laura was even more determined. If Delebon had known that Frank had a gift…

"Oh Frank sweetie, I'm sorry I've never been completely honest with your Dad and you boys. But I only did it to protect all of you. Guess you get it honest, the way you boys have kept me and Dad in the dark at times. Funny the things we do to protect those we love, huh Sweetie?"

Frank groaned and his not swollen eye fluttered.

"C'mon Sweetie. Mom's here. Can you look at me and say Hi?" Laura tried to rouse her son to wakefulness. Finally she was rewarded with a peek of chocolaty brown. Frank still looked dazed and his good eye scanned the room. She made a mental note to call Phil later to see if he could find Frank's glasses in his luggage and bring them when he came back. His roving eye finally settled in Laura's general direction.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

…..

**Author's Note:**

Franklin Lewis Hardy! Do you honestly kiss your mother with that mouth? Sheesh, kids these days….


	28. The Late Bloomer

Chapter 28: The Late Bloomer

"Honestly! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Mozelle asked while she studied her manicured nails.

"They said you were dead." Frank said as he clutched the sheets on the bed.

"I am. Although I hope I look better than when you last saw me. I mean, your Phil's a cutie, but I prefer my own shape." She wiggled seductively in the chair near the door.

"Why can I see you if you're…you're dead." Frank knitted his brow in confusion, but it hurt and pulled too much on his swollen face.

"Seems like you're a late bloomer. It was my understanding that your kinfolk got their talents and gifts pretty early in childhood. Although, the way Eric talked, you were a bit late with other things too." Mozelle smiled smugly.

"That's none of your damn business!" Frank barked at the woman.

"Alright, alright! Get off your high horse!" Mozelle stood and approached the bed. "Look Frank. I've been talking to Eric. He doesn't know I've come to see you, but I need to let you in on something."

"You… _talked_ to Eric."

"What? You think the only people we in the hereafter can talk to are the living? _Please_." Mozelle rolled her eyes, but then her face softened. "There's nothing here, in this life, for him to hang on to. You're the only thing keeping him from _moving on_."

"Moving on? You mean going to Heaven? He was a vampire, he had no soul. And he raped and tortured me! Or did he not bother to tell you all of _that_?"

"You know, I haven't had my dead card very long, but lemme let you in on a little secret. He'll be judged. Someone else will decide where and what his final destination will be. But this…" Mozelle waved her hands around, "can be a very painful place for those who have nothing to keep them here. He has no unfinished business, no loved ones who are drawing him in, but he does have an anchor. Guilt. And the sooner you can forgive him, the sooner he's released to go to his final judgment."

"What about you? Do I need forgive you too?" Frank narrowed his eye at the dead witch.

"Oh, naw Sugah. I don't have any real ties to you. Although I gotta say, it was fun being you for a night. If you ever let your hair down you'd have a helluva good time. You did Friday night."

"What?" But Mozelle shook her head dismissively.

"I've got enough unfinished business and ex-boyfriends to haunt to last me a long time before I'm ready to move on, and Emile's number one on my list. Sneaky sonovabitch." She smiled mischievously. "But you can't go and forgive Eric half-heartedly just to get it over with. You've really got to feel it in your heart. Or else Eric's just gonna be under your ass haunting you…"

"Haunting me?"

"Well, not rattlin' chains and going "boo" kind of haunting. But when you cross his mind, or vice versa, he'll be there. Not like a memory, but like you and me, right now. Of course, now that your new "skill" has opened up to you, he won't be the only one."

"You mean I'm going to start seeing ghosts?" Frank paled and his breathing speed up.

"Careful with the "G" word. We prefer "spirits." "Ghost" is reserved for those who've been hanging around for years and years and have gone kinda nutty. They're in total denial of their death and refuse to move on."

"How do you know so much about all of this if you haven't been dead that long?" Frank asked. Mozelle sat up proudly.

"My Mama taught me, she was a fine witch and knew a few mediums. Ya know, maybe you could get your Mama here to give you a few pointers."

"My Mom?"

…

Laura stopped the first nurse she could find as she hurried from Frank's room.

"Chapel? Where?" The nurse seemed startled by her urgent inquiry, but she knew the boy inside was pretty sick.

"One floor down, get off the elevator and it's to the left." Laura thanked the woman and dashed to the bank of elevators. Down in the chapel Laura slid into a pew and held her head in her hands.

No, no not Frank. Why? Hasn't he been through enough? The visions, she could understand that. But no, not channeling. How will he be able to handle both? Her mother could barely handle having two talents, and the channeling was the worst of them. It was because of those talents that she lost her mother to the Svartal. If Delebon had gotten his hands on Frank and these talents had come to light… Laura's stomach rolled at the thought of how the Prince of the Svartal would have used Frank for his own political and personal gain.

"Oh Nanae, please watch over Frank." Laura prayed fervently, "Please lend him your strength. He's going to need it."

…..

Dr. Schwartz was leaving Frank's room when Laura came back down the corridor. She had changed into purple surgical scrubs that had little peace symbols all over them.

"Good news Mrs. Hardy! Frank's fever has finally broken. We'll monitor him for a few hours to make sure it stays down and then we'll schedule the debridement. I'm shooting for just before dinner tonight. If this were a normal case I'd wait until morning, but I want to strike while the iron's hot to prevent any further tissue damage."

"Thank you Doctor." Bluma nodded and began to walk away but Laura stopped her. "Dr. Schwartz, I want to apologize for being so snappish with you last night. No one, save a handful of people, knows about me. My own husband and sons don't know. So, thank you for not giving anything away when you found out about Frank."

"You're welcome Mrs. Hardy." Bluma smiled genuinely.

Laura quietly stepped into the room.

"Mom?" She heard Frank say. The oxygen mask had been removed and he was back to receiving supplemental oxygen through the nasal cannula. "When did you get here?"

"As Joe would say, at the ass crack of dawn." His mother smiled and joined him on the side of the bed. Frank tried to laugh, but winced and groaned.

"Oh G-d Mom, don't make me laugh like that."

"Sorry sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"I think there's this one hair in my eyebrow that doesn't hurt." Frank smiled. "Where's Phil and Dad, I mean, I didn't dream it, did I? They are down here?"

"Yes, Sweetie."

"That's good. I've been having some really weird… dreams. They must have me on some pretty strong stuff. It's been kind of hard to tell what's been real, and what's not.

"High fevers can do that."

"Where are they now?"

"Resting at the room, them and Biff and Amy."

"Oh. _Oh!_" It was almost comical the way Frank's good eye widened.

"It's alright dear. Dad and I are pretty much up to speed now."

"Oh G-d." Frank groaned again and turned his head away from his mother.

"I'm not mad. Although I've got to say, if you were still living under my roof, we would be having a serious conversation about keeping things from me and your father. But you and Joe are adults, in less than a year you're getting married and Joe's going to become a father. So I'm sure you had your reasons for not telling us everything. I imagine it was to protect us, right?"

"Yeah." Frank swallowed thickly. "We figured the more you knew, the more danger you could be in. I mean, Eric… he was threatening my family, everyone."

"That's the funny thing about protecting those we love. We think sometimes the best way to protect them is to keep them in the dark."

"I'm sorry we couldn't be completely honest with you Mom." Laura sighed and patted his hand.

"Would it make you feel better to know that I haven't always been completely honest with you, Joe and Dad?"

…..

"Phil?"

"Mmm?"

"Phil! Wake up man, you gonna sleep all day?" Phil opened an eye and glared at the man standing above him.

"What time is it?" Phil rubbed his eyes.

"About five o'clock." Biff answered.

"Oh shit. Has Laura called?" He looked over to the other bed and found it vacant.

"Where's Mr. H?"

"He left about an hour ago. Capt. Bordenave called saying that Miguel guy is singing like a bird, so Fenton went down to listen in on the interrogation. I think he's going to turn state's witness against Louvel. And I just got off the phone with Laura, they're taking Frank down to surgery to clean out that wound." Phil clamored out of bed to put on some fresh clothes.

"You may as well slow down Phil, Frank's probably going to be out of it for a few hours when he comes out. Let's go get a bite to eat and bring something to Mrs. Hardy, I'm sure she's tired of hospital food already." Phil hesitated but Biff insisted. "I think nothing would please Frank more than you being well rested and fed and looking after his mother."

"When did you become such a diplomat?" Biff just smiled and plopped down into chair while Phil finished getting dressed. "Dare I ask how Amy's holding up?" Biff's smile dropped.

"She was taking it pretty hard last night. I've never seen her like that, I really didn't know what to do except to lay there and hold her." Phil chuckled at Biff.

"Sometimes, that's all someone needs, just a shoulder to cry on and an ear to hear them out."

"Ugh, slaying seems so much simpler than this relationship stuff."

…..

Late Wednesday morning found Phil holding Frank's hand, and wincing as Frank squeezed it tightly. A nurse had removed the film that covered the wound vacuum and was applying a fresh dressing to the tears on his side. Frank was still taking the pain killers the nurses offered even though Phil had slipped him a vial of the vampire blood. The infection from the werewolf mauling had been a tough one to beat, but things were finally looking up. This was the second time since Sunday that the wound vac had been applied and the tears were looking much less red and angry. Frank was going to have scars there for sure, but Phil insisted they would make Frank look more "bad ass" when he took his shirt off at the beach.

"Like Key West or Fort Lauderdale? Do either of them strike you for a honeymoon destination?" Phil was trying to do his best to distract Frank while the nurse finished applying the sterile dressing.

"I… I guess Phil." Frank squeezed his hand again as a fresh wave of pain radiated through his side.

"There you go Mr. Hardy, all done." Tess gingerly placed Frank's hospital gown back down over his side and pulled the bed sheet up to Frank's chest. "Dr. Schwartz will be around before lunch time with your discharge papers and orders for your doctor in New York."

"Thanks Tess." Frank said quietly.

Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had been waiting in the hallway while Frank had undergone the negative pressure therapy. They entered the room smiling. Laura was waving her cell phone cheerfully.

"Joe just called. Vanessa's being discharged this afternoon too! They did an ultrasound this morning and the placenta has moved up and is in the clear!" Laura did a little happy dance in the middle of the room that had Fenton and Phil laughing. Frank simply smiled, a relieved look gracing his features.

"Do they know what they're having yet Mom?" Frank smirked and gave his mother a pointed look. Laura straightened her shoulders.

"No Sweetie, it's too soon to see that. But the twenty-week ultrasound has been scheduled for just before Christmas." Laura answered sweetly and Fenton squeezed her shoulder.

"I've got my money on a boy." Fenton added. "Of course I'll be happy with whatever the good Lord blesses us with, but my gut is telling me it's a boy."

Frank and Laura shared a secret smile.

"Oh, are we starting the betting pool now?" Phil chimed in. "I'm thinking a boy too."

"Listen to the two of you! You never bet on anything Fenton!" then Laura grinned. "But if you're seriously starting one, I'm in for a girl."

Frank shook his head at his mother and rolled his eyes. He glanced at the door and saw an elderly gentleman in a maroon bathrobe and light blue cotton pajamas. The older man caught Frank staring at him. He smiled and waved, then walked away, through a wall. Frank blinked and then rubbed his temples. The swelling had gone down a little where Emile had hit him, but his face was a ghastly collage of purple, black and red.

This was so totally fucked up, Frank thought. As if his world hadn't changed enough this year, with the newfound knowledge of all things supernatural, but now there was _this_ new twist. His mother had tried to explain that it was pretty common to receive this gift in early adulthood. At least he didn't have the challenges of having foresight and the ability to channel the dead while he was a child, like his late grandmother had, she had said. But what a hell of a time for all this to show up! He was sick, injured, miles away from home and recovering from being kidnapped and sexually assaulted.

Speaking of which, Frank hadn't even told Phil to call Dr. Berber, his psychologist, and set up an appointment for after they got back to Bayport. He hadn't even told Phil about what happened in that basement. What Eric had done in order to save his life, what Dolon had done to him during his _inspection_.

"Frank, Babe?" Phil said gently.

"Hmm?"

"You okay? You look like you're a thousand miles away." But Frank gave his hand an assuring squeeze.

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

…

Author's Note:

Ugh, this chapter! I've rewritten the second half of it about three different ways. Plus, RL has been crazy, so apologies for the delay in the update.


	29. On the Horizon

Chapter 29: On the Horizon

"Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." Biff inhaled the cool, yet salty air that blew through Bayport. He and Amy stood atop his apartment building in downtown Bayport, overlooking the city, reaching out with their uniquely sharp senses for any signs of undesirable creatures.

"It is good to be home. New Orleans was a bit too warm for my taste." Amy confessed. She did not protest as Biff wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Zeke's not joining us tonight?" Biff asked as his kisses moved down to her shoulder, his lips nudged at the shoulder strap of her silky tank top. His hands ran over her bare arms and he felt the vampire shiver.

"He is…ah… he is entertaining a friend at our apartment with video games. Some Were youth he met when he was keeping watch over Phillip at your grandfather's farm." Amy turned in Biff's arms and planted a hungry kiss on his lips.

"How are you going to endure the smell of eau de Teen Wolf when you get home later?" Biff asked when they broke apart.

"I made Ezekiel promise to give the apartment a thorough cleaning before I come home tomorrow night."

"Oh? And where do you plan to hang your hat until then?"

"Well, it is my understanding your roommate works the graveyard shift…"

"I like the way you think."

…..

"You're right Joe. He does look like a butterbean. They didn't have such high tech equipment when you and Frank were coming along." Fenton laughed as he handed the latest ultrasound photo across the picnic table and back to his son.

Labor Day weekend brought with it a relief from the oppressive August heat. And for the first time since June the Hardys were enjoying a night dining under the stars. They had invited Frank and Phil, but understood when they had declined the invitation. Frank still wasn't feeling up to par and preferred to spend the holiday at home with Phil.

"But they did have the Doppler, remember? The first time we heard each of your heart beats, Fenton and I couldn't wipe the silly grins off our faces. Your dad here actually had tears in his eyes." Fenton blushed slightly at his wife's tale, but there was no mistaking the look of pride as he thought back to those days.

"Earth to Fenton… Pass the potato salad." Aunt Gertrude snapped.

"Iz all zis technology safe for ze bébé?" Andrea asked while passing a bowl of pasta salad down to Vanessa.

"Yes Maman, the doctor said it was perfectly safe." Vanessa answered as she piled a couple of spoonfuls onto her plate. "You should have seen the look on Frank's face when he saw the picture this afternoon. He said he had a little something in his contacts, but his nose started getting a little red too." she giggled.

The young woman was looking much healthier than she had in weeks. The color had returned to her cheeks and as Joe would say, she seemed to have that maternal glow. Vanessa chalked her glow up to the slight return of her appetite and a craving for cheeseburgers, the cheesier and greasier the better. The Labor Day spread before them was mouth-watering and Vanessa had a little of everything on her paper plate.

"So, has he started to kick yet?" Fenton asked his daughter-in-law.

"Oh Fenton, it's too early for that." Laura scoffed.

"No Dad," Vanessa added. "but my clothes are getting tighter."

"Especially her shirts." Joe said and took a quick sip of his iced tea to cover his smile.

"Joseph! Vanessa has a lovely figure." Aunt Gertrude scolded her nephew.

"I didn't say I was complaining." Joe winked at his wife, which earned him an elbow to his ribs.

…..

"Babe, are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, eight months… whew! That's a long time to go without…" Phil sat back in their bed and ran a hand through his loose, freshly shampooed curls. They had been back in Bayport for weeks now and Frank had been back in their home, in their comfortable bed for just over two and a half weeks. He had spent several days in Bayport Memorial under observation and continued with the wound vac therapy until the doctors there deemed him fit enough to go home. Now Frank's side consisted of dark pink, tender scars. The infection was gone and it was just a matter of healing and moving forward with life.

But moving forward for Frank had also meant going back to his psychologist, Dr. Berber, to help him come to terms with his kidnapping experience. The old saying, _one step forward and two steps back_, held certain meaning for Frank. Although some days he felt like he had moved back nearly to square one.

"Hon, I know it's going to be torture. But I think Dr. Berber has a point. The way I was abused and treated in New Orleans by … you know…" Frank didn't want to utter Eric's name, for fear the dead vampire's ethereal presence would make itself known, or the name of the Dark Elf who had molested him during his captivity. "But waiting until after the wedding before we have sex again, it will give me plenty of time to heal emotionally and mentally from what happened. Think of it this way, it'll give us something else to look forward to."

"Cock-blockin' doc." Phil muttered.

"Phillip."

"I'm kidding! Kidding. Really, I can understand and appreciate where you and the doc are coming from. We'll wait Baby, as long as you need."

"And…" Frank tried to continue, clearing his throat and taking a shaky breath. "It will give you time to digest something else I have to tell you. And if you decide you want to break off our engagement, I won't blame you"

"Frank, I've known you for over half our lives. I don't think you could tell me anything short of deciding you don't love me anymore that would make me want to break things off." Phil propped his pillow up against the headboard next to Frank's so he could be eye level with his fiancée. "So, spill."

"Remember me telling you that Mom and I had a long talk while I was at LSU? Well, she told me, oh G-d, she told me that Joe and I aren't entirely human."

"What?" Phil asked blankly.

"My mother… is an Elf. An elf of the Light. So that makes me and Joe half-Elf. And…" Frank drew in a sharp breath as he soldiered on, fearing if he hesitated he wouldn't have the courage to get it all out, "I have been having weird dreams, they've become more vivid as time has gone by. It turns out I share my mom's gift of foresight, because she has had the same visions. I can't control it like Mom can, but she said she would work with me on how to meditate and forecast. And… I can see the dead. When I was at LSU, I wasn't hallucinating that night, I was talking to Eric, I saw Mozelle Ledet, I saw an old man… Since we've been back in Bayport I've seen even more dead people. They come up to me and talk to me. Some of them I know, some I've never met before…"

"Your mom doesn't have pointy ears." Phil said dumbly, all the while staring at Frank with wide eyes and a dead serious look on his face.

"Mom said that when she and her father first escaped from… where ever, I can't pronounce it… they had them surgically altered while they were in Ireland. Then they moved here shortly after when she was six years old. She said my grandmother had the foresight and could channel spirits. That she had been captured by Dark Elves for her gifts…"

"What about you and Joe, were you born with…" Phil pointed to the tops of his own ears.

"I was, but Joe wasn't."

"How'd your mom get that past your dad?"

"She said she told him it was just a weird family trait, like when people are born with a sixth finger or toe. She had a doctor correct it when I was just a few days old, the same day they circumcised me. That's why I don't have a visible scar."

"Okay Babe, so let me see if I've got all of this… You're half Elf, half human. You can see the future in your dreams, and you can speak to dead people."

"This helps explain things, like why I reacted so badly to the iron shackles." Frank held up his wrists which were still scuffed and pink. "Elves are sensitive to iron."

"And why Dr. Schwartz was so insistent that your mother come down, to get _her_ blood, _elf_ blood?"

"Elf blood can only help heal another elf, or someone with elf blood for a blood infection. Like what I had. And the presence and touch from another elf is helpful too. So you see? I can understand why you would want to break things off. It all sounds so crazy and out in left-field…"

Frank looked down at his hands which were resting in his lap. Phil got out of bed and walked to their bathroom, closing the door behind his self. The house was totally silent. Frank could feel a pain in his chest and his throat began to get tight. So this was it, the best relationship he'd ever been a part of in his life and this is how it was going to end. But how could he blame Phil? The dangers of his job, the entanglements with the supernatural, and now he was partially supernatural too… It was all too much for him to accept in his own mind, much less to expect someone else to accept and endure.

He was too wrapped up in his self-pity to realize Phil and rejoined him on the bed. But then Frank saw Phil's hand take one of his. Phil brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm, turned it around and kissed the back of his hand, and his wrist.

"I don't care if you're part elf, leprechaun, or pixie. You're the love of my life. I didn't fall in love with your heritage. I fell in love with you."

"What about the extra baggage?" Frank asked, but Phil merely shrugged.

"I've always known I would never have a dull moment with you." He put an arm around Frank. "So, any dreams about lottery numbers, or which team will win the pennant?"

"Nothing like that. So far just flashes of our future, our family." Frank said.

"Family? You mean kids? So do we adopt or get a surrogate?" Phil asked excitedly.

"I'm not entirely sure. I just know that when I have those dreams, I'm happy, we're happy. They're some of the sweetest dreams I've ever had."

…

Lady Thiadel traced the locket with her fingers. Even with her cloudy eyes she knew the details of the engraving by heart. For years she had taken time to cherish the trinket in secret, spent many lonely hours staring at the hand painted images inside in the candlelight. The golden locket had been an anniversary gift from her husband, Elhael. Her only husband as far as her heart was concerned. She remembered that morning so well…

_It was Lairelithoniel's fourth summer. Elhael had let Thiadel sleep in while he attended to their young daughter. Later he surprised her by announcing that he packed a picnic lunch, had readied the cart and horse and was taking them to the lake for a short holiday. The lake was their favorite retreat in the summer. Elhael's family owned a small lakefront cabin that they were welcome to use anytime they wanted. _

_Once they had arrived and dropped the picnic basket off in the summer kitchen, Lairelithoniel undressed down to her swimming shift and made a mad dash for the narrow dock. Her small bare feet made a slappy-tappity sound as she ran on the old wooden boards and she squealed with delight when she reached the end, jumping off and hitting the water with a loud splash._

_"Nanae! Ada*! Did you see me?" Lairelithoniel hollered when her head popped up out of the water._

_"I saw you Little Fish!" Thiadel called back, she clapped her hands in praise of her daughter's daring._

_"A fish? I see no fish. But I do see a yellow haired mermaid in the lake. Please, fair mermaid, wrench me not from the arms of my goodly wife with your siren song!" Elhael made a dramatic show of fear and held on to Thiadel. Lairelithoniel laughed as she treaded in the water._

_"Ada!" _

_"Hark, she beckons me yet with her sweet voice!" Elhael shuffled toward the end of the dock, pulling Thiadel with him. He gave Lairelithoniel a conspiratory wink and worked his way closer._

_"Elhael, no! I haven't changed into my shift!" Thiadel warned playfully._

_"La la laaaa, la la dee ta dah!" Their daughter sang out and she swam away from the dock, giving her parents room._

_"Oh, woe is me! I have been ensnared by her spell. I shall cling to you, my love, until the bitter end!" _

_"No! Don't you do it! El…" Splash! Thiadel opened her eyes under the water. The lake was crystal clear and she could see Elhael smiling as they swam to the surface. _

_"*Gasp!* El… *Gasp* Elhael! That was…"_

_"Priceless!" He pressed a kiss to her lips. "Happy Anniversary, Thiadel."_

_Much later that day, their robes were nearly dry as they hung on the line that was strung from the cabin to a shady arbor. There Elhael and Thiadel relaxed in a woven hammock while Lairelithoniel chased tadpoles that were hiding among the reeds at the lake's edge. Thiadel's head was nestled in the crook of her husband's shoulder and neck, Elhael held her in a relaxed embrace, lazily stroking the tips of her ears with his calloused fingers._

_They had been married ten years. Her friends and family had told her it was a mistake to marry below her station and that their marriage would not last. But Thiadel had married Elhael for love, not for prestige, and she had not regretted a single day. Besides, they had King Belegon II's blessing. A hopeless romantic himself, her uncle the king had even escorted her down the aisle on the day of their wedding. He considered it an honor to present his niece to Elhael, his son's favorite tutor. _

_Thiadel had always found court life too stuffy anyway. She felt like she was born for the quiet life of the deep woods. That was the life that Elhael, a highly acclaimed scholar, had enjoyed before he had been called to court to educate the prince, and she longed for it. Too many people at court knew about her abilities, and were constantly pulling her aside to ask about their future, who had taken a fancy to them, or if there would be war with the Svartal. When she wasn't being harassed by courtiers, the nonliving that wandered the palace grounds had messages for their loved ones that they would pester her about until she relayed them._

_When her cousin the prince reached the end of his formal education, King Belegon II decreed that Elhael was officially retired and set him up with a pension that left him very, very comfortable. They built a quaint cottage that was miles away in the deep woods and a year later Lairelithoniel was born. Life was good now. No spirits begging favors, no anxious ladies-in-waiting asking about the affections of certain gentlemen. It was just her little family and the bright future ahead of them._

_"Thank you Elhael. Today has been wonderful." Thiadel said._

_"It's not over yet. I've got one more surprise for you, close your eyes." She did, and she could feel Elhael leaning out of the hammock. He had nearly tipped them over when he finally pulled back._

_"Okay, open them." _

_In his hand he held an oval shaped golden locket strung on a delicate chain. An intricate engraving with their initials interwoven graced the front. He pushed on a little hinge and it popped open, revealing two very detailed and hand-painted miniature portraits. On one side was a miniature version of their wedding portrait, on the other was a picture of Lairelithoniel._

_Thiadel gasped in surprise at the beauty of the delicate locket. _

_"Elhael it's beautiful! Who did you get to make such a clever likeness?"_

_"Camaenor, in the village. He does excellent work wouldn't you say?" They sat up in the hammock and Elhael placed the golden chain around her neck. _

_"Lairelithoniel, come see what Ada has given me!" The tiny girl abandoned the clutch of tadpoles and ran to her parents._

_"Oh! Nanae, it's shiny! So pretty." Elhael picked his daughter up and wedged her between them so she could get a better look. _

_"Now I'll have Ada and little Lairelithoniel with me wherever I go." Thiadel kissed her husband and planted a kiss to the top of her daughter's head._

_"I love it, thank you darling."_

_"And I love you Thiadel. Always."_

The lady ran her withered fingers over the locket. There were dents and dings on the once smooth surface. The chain was long gone, but the last time she was able to see it clearly, the portraits inside were still as vividly colored as they were the day she received it.

Where her eyesight had failed her, Lady Thiadel's hearing had sharpened. She opened the small drawer to her dressing table and slipped the worn locket inside. A moment later there was a knock on her door.

"Enter." She said softly.

"Lady Thiadel, a herald has sent word that the Princes are returning." Her lady-in-waiting, Calareth announced. She closed the heavy door behind her and set a metal tray on a table. Cups and bowls jangled with a metallic clatter. "I brought breakfast milady."

"Thank you Calareth." She accepted the bowl of vegetable broth and the wedge of bread for dipping. "Any word if their venture was a success?"

"I think you already know the answer to that milady." Calareth laughed heartily but a lone finger to Thiadel's lips silenced her.

"Someone's coming." The lady whispered. But then she relaxed. "It's only Daerdir. Let him in please." She heard her lady-in-waiting walk to the door and greet Thiadel's son in a hushed tone. Calareth left them to visit in private. Then a second, heavier set of footsteps approached her, and soft lips kissed her cheek.

"Good Morrow Naneth. I hope you are well." He greeted his mother cheerfully.

"It is. How does it find you?"

"Well. You've heard about Delebon and Dolon's return?" Daerdir asked as he pulled a chair up to his mother's.

"Indeed."

"Too bad that Upper World craft could not have found a nice rock to collide with." He muttered darkly.

"Careful, Daerdir. You may mean those words in jest, but some at court may see them as treasonous, even if you are talking about your brothers." His mother warned.

"Half brothers. And there are a good many at court who would agree with me."

"Even so, you know how paranoid Delebon can be, especially when he is in one of his dark humors." She leant forward and beckoned her son closer.

"I had the dream again my son. It is a good sign. Elhael can even confirm it. The one who will help bring the change is coming. He will arrive as a prisoner, you will free him and he will ally with you, and see you rise to power." Daerdir heard something in his mother's voice that he thought he would never hear, hope.

"Dear Naneth. I would love to believe these visions to be true, even if they can be confirmed by the spirit your late husband. But…"

"You have grown up desensitized to the oppression of your people. You are the last of good King Belegon's line. The day will come when our people will need a leader again. They will look to you!" She took her son's hand, but he wrenched it away.

"_Your_ people spit on me in the streets! They think that because of the color of my skin I am just like the Svartal!"

"You know the Svartal like you no better. You are a child of both worlds, just like the one who is coming. You belong to the Alfheim and the Svartal, and I have seen a day come where you show them all that peace and equality among the races are possible. Please do not lose faith. He is coming."

*Nanae, Naneth, Ada - Tolkeinesque elven words for Mommy, Mother, Daddy

The End of Part II

**Author's Note:**

I'm currently doing a bunch of research for the final story of this trilogy. I want you all to know that I have enjoyed writing these stories and look forward how the next one unfolds. After this trilogy is complete, I hope to write some one-shots or shorter stories within the K-T rating as well as in the M rating scale as well.

Thank you all for your readership and support. Special shout out to my UK friend, your encouragement has meant the world to me.

Hugs! Hollyboo2001


	30. Save the Date

Chapter 30: Save the Date

Boy met boy.

For the rest of the story

please join us on

May 28, 20_ _

for the wedding of

Phil Cohen and Frank Hardy

Formal invitation to follow


End file.
